


Crimson

by Dowdz



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2018-11-19 09:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 82
Words: 339,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dowdz/pseuds/Dowdz
Summary: Akira Kurusu. Delinquent. Thief. Leader. Hero. Who is he? How many masks can one man wear?





	1. Musings of a Crow / Another Box

_I'll tell you a story about myself. Growing up, my mother and I had very little. Cheap food, used clothes. Even the mat I slept on. She'd found it in a pile of trash a few blocks from our apartment. One less thing we needed to purchase with her already stretched paycheck._

_One thing we did have though, was an antique bell. Well, I say antique, but it was likely worth less than five hundred yen. It was this small white thing, with red flourishes running across it that used to make me think of the wind. When you held it, you could feel the little imperfections through the paint, but they were so small you couldn't see them with the naked eye. We hung it just above the door to our apartment._

_I was a frightful child. Our neighborhood wasn't very safe, and my mother's job forced her to leave me alone for long hours of the night. I hated the dark, but I would endure it, because sooner or later, I would hear the bell chime as our door opened, and I knew my mother was home. She would come and check on me then, and I would drift off to sleep._

_It got to the point where the simple jingle of the bell was enough to send me to sleep. I didn't even need her to check on me. If the bell rang, that meant my mother was home, and that meant I was safe._

_Then one night, the bell didn't ring. My mother didn't come home. I stayed awake that whole night, staring at the ceiling, afraid to shut my eyes. The sun came up, and the sun went down, and I didn't move. The bell didn't ring. I stayed in that room, under those covers, for three days, waiting for that bell to ring. It didn't. On the third night the police finally came and collected me. They told me what had happened to my mother. Told me what would happen to me._

_But some part of me, and some part of me still, cannot understand why the bell never rang. Part of me is still wide awake in that room, in that rotting apartment, waiting for the soft jingle that would mean, safe. Sometimes, I'll lie awake at night and wait for it, even though I know it's never coming._

_I didn't tell you this story to make you sympathetic towards me. This isn't supposed to help you resonate with me more, or allow us to understand each other better. I just wanted to illustrate that everyone is scared of something. Even me. And I hope you'll be honest with me when I ask you, what are you afraid of?_

_Well, what are you afraid of, Akira?_

 

# 

 

They put you in a box. Everything you are, everything you've ever done or could do, everything you wish you could be, all the love and drive and dreams you carry in your heart, all the things that connect you to others, all of it. For all of it, they put you in a box.

Akira stares at a white ceiling, mismatched with the dull ivory walls. It is warm, not unbearable, but getting there. The A/C only comes on after six. It's one of the few ways of telling time in here, as there's no clock and no window. There are two cots, both with simple black metal frames, far too thin mattresses, scratchy sheets and dull gray blankets, and blocky pillows that provide no comfort.

"Don't think that way."

Akira looks at Rokuro as the latter speaks. The boy is his age, a familiar mop of uncombed black hair atop his head, but the similarities stop there. His face is all edge; his jawline thin and straight, and his nose hooked downward. Rokuro's eyes always seem to be darting around, even though there's nothing to look at in the cell. There's an energy beneath them, but it seems cruel to Akira. He does not know what Rokuro has done to be here, and the boy has not offered it up, but Akira cannot help but think he earned his place here.

"Think what way?" He asks. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't need to." He is sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall, and extends one long arm with one long finger and points at Akira. "You've got the look of a guy that's lost all hope. You're thinking, 'That's it for me, I'm done. This is the end of the very short road that was my life.'"

Akira looks back up at the ceiling. "I wasn't thinking that, but now that you mention it..." He trails off, leaving the implication clear.

Rokuro lets his arm drop and shakes his head. "You need to open your eyes to the possibilities, man." His words are quick and clear, almost like he's biting them off. "There's always a way out.  You have to take up the responsibility to find it."

 _We are going to make you understand. One must take full responsibility for their actions_.

Akira's hands fly to his wrists, to his chest, his stomach, his legs. But he is unharmed. There are no sensitive areas, no bruises or cuts. Nothing. So why does he feel as if there should be?

"What're you doing?" Rokuro asks. "Checking to see if you brought in any contraband you forgot about?" He laughs at his quip, but Akira is too... what is he? Fazed? Confused?

He looks back at Rokuro. "Where are we?"

"Huh? The hell is wrong with you?" His face grows serious and his voice, quiet. "They didn't _do_ anything to you, did they?"

"I-" Akira starts, but he can't finish. His mouth is suddenly desert dry and his words shrivel and die in his throat. His head pounds, he aches everywhere. His hands shake.

"Hey, hey," Rokuro says. He unfolds himself, stands and makes his way over to Akira's cot. "Are you okay? You can trust me, you know."

 _Trust_.

" _Do you think you can get her to trust you?"_

There's something he has to do. _What was it?_ He hears a faint snapping sound. It's sporadic, but the longer it goes, the more of his attention it takes. "This isn't right," he manages to choke out.

His eyes shift from Rokuro, to the boy's cot, to the walls, to the ceiling, to the thick metal door shut and secured from the outside. This isn't where he is supposed to be. This isn't where he is.

He has already been here.

Rokuro's hands grip his wrists. "Calm down, man. Calm down."

_”Kurusu! Hey! Are you still with me? Kurusu!"_

Rokuro leans down, his eyes inches from Akira's own. "Just remember, Akira-kun. There's always a way out."

His vision grows hazy. What he sees begins to twist into other shapes. Rokuro is gone, disintegrated, and in his place Akira sees a pair of deep brown eyes staring at him, full of concern. A grin spreads across his face. _It's her! Oh, thank God, it's her! I made it back! It's her!_

Except it isn't. The face surrounding the eyes grows more solid, more distinct. The sound that drew his attention resolves into a set of snapping fingers held just before his face. "Can you hear me?" The woman asks, her voice touched with panic. "Kurusu? Dammit, what the hell did they inject you with?"

 _Oh_.

He is in another box. Not the same as before, not the box he'd shared with Rokuro with its nondescript sterility. This box is dimly lit, smells wet from dirty water, sweat and blood. This box was full of men not too long ago, but now he is alone save for the woman. This is the box they put him in, this time.

Akira's mouth creaks open. "I-"

Sae Niijima blinks in surprise.

"I can hear you, Niijima-san."

The prosecutor sighs, folds her arms together and leans back in the chair. Her air of concern is gone, replaced with a familiar sternness. "I thought I'd lost you there. Your eyes glazed over and you didn't respond to anything. For a second, well, never mind. If you're back from your little vacation, then it's time to talk. I don't have much time with you."

He groans, droops and rests his head against the cool tabletop. He has to think. _There's something I have to do. What was it?_

"Hey," Sae shouts. She slaps the table with her open palm, and a stinging _thwack_ bounces through his skull. "Sit up! Don't think, for one second, that you're going to get through this without saying anything."

_"Do you think you can get her to trust you?"_

_"I don't like this. It's way, way too dangerous."_

_"Do we have any other choice?"_

No. No other choice. No other option. There had only been one way forward. _There's always a way out._ He sits up, forces his eyes and brain to focus. This is Sae Niijima. He knows this woman. He has spoken with her before. She is important.

Sae bows her head a bit, and leans in, almost conspiratorially. The look she gives him is one of contempt. "You know," she says, ice in her voice. "She's going to hear about this. And it's going to break her heart."

Dread seizes him. Sae calls him a bastard, but Akira's mind is spinning once more. Stolen glances over the top of a manga. Stern, exciting words. The taste of coffee on her lips. If he doesn't get out of here, if he doesn't focus, he'll never see her again, never hold her, never hear her, never kiss her, never...

Never...

Never...

Sae drops a thick beige file on the table, and the sound snaps him back. There is a header on the file's tag. It reads, 'Phantom Thieves.'

"Let's start from the beginning," Sae says.

"The beginning?" Akira asks.

He remembers two soft hands on his cheeks, lips pressed to his forehead. _"Now, this is important. When she talks to you, you have to tell her everything. All of it. Because if you do, I know she'll believe you."_

Akira mumbles soft words into the air. They are too low for Sae to hear. “I’ll come back, I promise.” He has said these words before. He means them.

Sae opens her mouth, but Akira cuts her off. "Okay," he says, his voice a painful croak. "I'll tell you everything." He casts his mind back, and begins to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There were several ideas behind this fic. You could discern a few of them from this prologue. I've changed some things. As of now, I plan on updating on a M-W-F schedule. I hope you all enjoy.


	2. Home

4/9

It is the sunlight that wakes him. His eyes snap open and the dim remains of a headache fade from his skull. _Did I doze off?_ He doesn't remember being tired. The trip to Tokyo hadn't been a long one. He reaches up to rub his eyes, and his fingers push against the lenses of his new glasses. He drops his hand. The glasses arrived before he'd left for Tokyo, but he still isn't used to them yet. It isn't as if he needs them.

The subway car continues to rattle along, and the brief glimpse of day vanishes as they race back underground.

"A mental shutdown?" Two schoolgirls stand by the train car’s door, arms wrapped around handrails, heads dipped together in conversation.

"Mmmhmm," the second girl says. "I heard about it online. Apparently the guy's brain just went 'splat' or something and he drove the bus right into a store."

"Geez, that's scary."

"That's not all, I heard the same thing happened to that subway engineer who crashed that train last week."

The first girl frowns, "But, can that really happen to someone? I mean, I know there's that aneurism thing that kills you instantly, or something, but it doesn't make you act crazy, right?"

The second replies with a shrug and a giggle. "Who knows? Maybe there's some kind of gas in the subway tunnels that made him go crazy."

"Don't say that when we're on the subway!"

Akira's attention drifts away. They weren't talking about anything, not really. Just rumors and nonsense. He doesn't need to pay attention. He doesn't need to care. He had to learn this distinction during the trial. It had been the only way to keep himself sane. Know what you need to learn, and then learn it. Nothing else matters. He keeps his eyes on the floor for the rest of the trip.

The train reaches a subsidiary station just south of Shibuya, and Akira steps off and mixes with the people on the platform. His shoulders slump forward, his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes are fixed on the ground. He walks. He occasionally checks the GPS on his phone. He says nothing. He looks at nothing. He tries to think nothing.

He walks.

The sheer amount of people in Tokyo bothers him. He is not from a small town - it's only an hour's ride north - but never has he been to a place so congested. Hundreds of pedestrians slide past him on the sidewalk. Their eyes look everywhere but at him. He is fine with this.

A moment is all he allows himself to marvel when he reaches Shibuya. The mass of people, when looked at in a certain way, seems like its own entity, a creature of a million limbs spiraling out and snaking its way through the streets and alleys. A thing with a mind, a consciousness, of its own. _I'm going to have to come through here, every day_. It is a daunting thought.

His cellphone beeps. He is young and therefore trained to look at every notification as soon as one appears. Akira sees what he first mistakes to be a red error message. When he brings the phone closer to his face, he sees that a small red square, not unlike an app icon, has appeared on his phone. It suddenly grows in size until it takes up half the screen. The picture is of a menacing eye, with a black star centered in a carmine iris.

Akira has seen enough nonsense online that this should not bother him, but it unsettles him nonetheless. He presses his thumb to it, intending to drag it to his phone's trash.

Everything stops.

Everything.

Akira looks up and around. All the people, all the cars, even the clouds above are frozen in standstill. Nothing moves and nothing makes a sound.

Except, that isn't quite true. Across the intersection, mixed within the throng of frozen people, crackles a pillar of blue flame.

_What the hell is that? What's happening?_ Akira takes a step away, and the flames grow. As his panic rises, the fire twists itself into a humanoid form.

A rush of heat spreads over Akira's face, and two burning wings rip themselves from the figure's back, arch and flourish.

"I AM THOU." The words pulse through him like a heartbeat and a warmth spreads through his chest. He lets out the breath he's been holding, and settles. He regards the figure with calm eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch upward.

In a single, brief moment, the flames break to reveal a clear image of Akira's own face. The grin this doppelganger wears is wide and sinister; the smile of a maniac. His eyes are bright gold and wild.

Then the image is gone. Akira blinks. Sound has returned in a mad wave and the people - frozen not a moment ago - move as if they'd been uninterrupted.

"Hey kid, keep it moving!" Akira turns and finds a middle-aged salaryman scowling up at him. "We can't all just stand around doing nothing." The man regards Akira's adopted school uniform and shakes his head in disgust. "Damn punk, just skipping school."

Akira's mind snarls. _It's Saturday afternoon, asshole. School's already out._ He doesn't say this. "I apologize, sir. Excuse me."

The man clicks his tongue and moves around him.

Akira retreats to the shade of a nearby building, and leans against the warm concrete. _What the hell was that just now? Was I hallucinating?_ Those girls on the train had mentioned a 'mental shutdown.' Had he just flirted with one? He checks his phone. The unnerving red icon is still there. Akira shakes his head clear. _It wasn't anything but a brief hallucination. Stress. That's all it was. Stress. God knows I've had a lot of it recently_. He drags the alien icon to the trash, successfully this time, and returns the phone to his pocket.

Sane again, Akira continues to the station, his posture stooped, his eyes on the ground. He does his best to look as uninteresting and innocent as possible.

#

Yongen-jaya. The place feels forgotten. More storefronts are shuttered than open. The people, few in number, walk with the easy familiarity of those who have been here for years. It is both intimate and strange. Akira supposes there could be some charm to this neighborhood, but it is hidden beneath the grit that cakes everything.

He passes a hole-in-the wall medical clinic, a shuttered movie theatre, and a convenience store in his search for Cafe LeBlanc. His directions are not precise, and his GPS has difficulty tracking his location.

LeBlanc is a small storefront across from a bathhouse, its sign small and unobtrusive. Like the rest of Yongen-jaya, it feels like an afterthought, swallowed by the whole of Tokyo.

Nerves set in. He knows nothing about Sojiro Sakura, the man who will be caring for him. He is not a relative. He is not a friend. Akira does not know why this man has accepted him as a ward, but he no longer questions things. This has all been arranged.

He opens the door to LeBlanc and steps inside. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim interior. A series of booths line the wall, with a parallel bar alongside. It smells of cook smoke, coffee, lacquer and leather. It is the same inside as out, small, cramped and quiet.

A man sits on a stool. He wears a pink shirt beneath an ivory apron. His hair, though receding, is a lustrous black, and his beard is stylized into a point. A newspaper is in his hands, but the man looks bored. At the sound of Akira's entrance, the man glances at him over the tops of his glasses.

The two regard each other for a moment, as Akira tries to decide what to say. Then the man sighs and says, "I take it you're Akira Kurusu?"

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but his words stumble out in a mishmash. He clears his throat and says, "Uh, yes sir."

The man folds the paper and deposits it onto the counter with practiced hands. "I'm Sojiro Sakura. Come with me." He pushes himself off the stool and walks deeper into the store. Akira hesitates, then follows. Just past the tables is a bathroom, and just past the bathroom is a narrow stairwell. Sojiro plods upwards and out of sight. Akira takes the steps at a quicker pace.

Sojiro stands in the center of a cluttered, dusty attic. Bags, boxes, books, and tools lay scattered around the tops of tables, desks, shelves and a couch. An uncovered bed sits shoved in the far corner, beneath the window. "This is where you'll be staying," Sojiro says. Akira doesn't know what to say. The place is big, but it's more of a storage area than anything else. "Ground rules," Sojiro continues before Akira has a chance to speak. "First, if you make any trouble, I will kick you out." Akira blinks, surprised at the gruffness. "Second, I don't want to hear about your situation. I already got the gist of it. A man was forcing himself on a woman, and you stepped in. He got hurt and he sued you."

Akira bristles at the memory, and at the matter-of-fact way in which Sojiro describes it. Yes, that was what happened, but the context-

A small grin plays itself out across Sojiro's face. "That's life, kid. Better get used to it."

Akira stoops a bit more, lowers his eyes and says, "Yes sir."

A few more rules follow, most involving not bothering Sojiro or his customers. Then the man leaves, without as much as a handshake.

Akira moves to the bed and drops his bag. He sits down on the thankfully clean sheets. "One whole year, huh?" He says to no one. He can hear a small rumble from downstairs, which he associates with the typical noise of the cafe.

In this moment, Akira Kurusu has never felt so alone.

#

Akira spends his afternoon cleaning the room. When evening falls, the space is not organized but is, at least, livable. Sojiro, minus the apron and plus a slick white jacket and fedora returns from below. He regards the room with a surprised look. "Hm. Not bad, I guess." By the time his gaze turns to Akira, his interest is gone again. "We'll be heading to Shujin Academy tomorrow. You're going to introduce yourself to the Principal. I want to be in and out, got it?" Akira nods. "Just keep it simple." He turns to leave.

"Thank you," Akira blurts out. Sojiro looks over his shoulder at him. "For taking me in. Thank you."

Sojiro frowns, shrugs and says, "Don't mention it. I'm heading home. Don't steal anything." He walks down the steps and vanishes.

Akira drops onto his bed, and realizes he has nothing left to do. He takes his phone from his pocket. He opens his 'Contact List' and stares at the last remaining name in it, 'Home.' His thumb hovers over it for a time. Then, he slides the phone back into his pocket.

A small murmur makes its way up the stairs and into the room. Sojiro is speaking, but Akira can't make out the words. He stands and creeps over to the stairwell, the boards don't creak like he expects them to.

"...uh-huh. Yeah. This afternoon. Pretty early, I guess there were no delays."

Akira sits on the top step and listens.

"So, do you want to speak with him?" Sojiro asks. Silence for a time. "Are you sure? He's right upstairs, I can grab him for you. Honestly, it's no trouble... Right. Yeah, no. I understand. Sorry." More silence. Then, "I will. Goodnight." Akira hears a faint click, then a sigh, then the jingle of the door as it opens, and then finally silence once it's closed.

Akira stares down the stairwell for a while. He bites the inside of his mouth, hard, until he tastes a bit of blood. He does this because he will not cry. He will not cry.

He will _not_ cry.

Then, exhausted, he gets up and goes to bed.

#

This time, it is the moaning that wakes him. It is faint, weak, and pained. He opens his eyes and sees a black ceiling, and cinderblock walls. He sees a lidless toilet, and bars where there should be a door.

He is in a box. Another box.

His clothes are tattered clichéd prisoner clothes, pinstriped in black and white. The air is heavy with the stench of sweat and piss. He sits up and finds his arms and legs shackled.

_A nightmare. This is a nightmare_. He wonders, then, why it feels so real.

Beyond the bars, a single light bulb illuminates a small circular room, ringed by cells similar to his. Panopticon. Beneath the bulb is a desk. The wood is rotting and peels to reveal the white beneath. The rug underneath is a frayed, monochromatic blue mess.

A stooped thing sits at it. It is not a man. It cannot be a man. Its features are too wrong. Its eyes bulge. Its nose, too long and knifelike. Its grin, too wide, its teeth too sharp. It is a caricature of a man, a farce, an imposter.

It meets Akira's eyes, and its grin grows just a bit wider. "Trickster," it says. Its voice is deep and hollow. "Welcome to my Velvet Room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy it. Next update is ready to go, it'll post on Friday.


	3. A Clean Nose

4/10

Curry. The aroma snakes its way through the room and up Akira's nostrils. He wakes to the smell of spices. He checks his phone. It's early, too early for LeBlanc to be open, he thinks.

His head hurts. He feels exhausted, though apparently he slept a full eight hours. The dream returns to him in bits and pieces. The creature called Igor. The moans. The attendants. "Ruin" and "rehabilitation." He lays his head back on the pillow. The thing from his dream had asked him a question, but he cannot remember it now. It is gone, like so many other dreams; banished by the day.

He dresses and makes his way downstairs. Sojiro stands behind the counter. A fresh plate of curry sits next to a mug of steaming coffee. "We'll go after you eat," he says, and gestures to the food.

"I... thank you."

"Don't let it go to your head," Sojro replies, and flips on the television. "I just don't want to hear you complaining about being hungry later."

Akira remembers the half-heard conversation from the night before, but he sits at the counter and keeps his eyes on the plate. With his tongue, he pokes the inside of his mouth, and feels the depression his teeth left.

The food is more delicious than he expected. Akira wolfs it down. The texture, the taste the full feeling once he’s done, all of it shakes him awake. "Looks like you enjoyed it," Sojiro says, but when Akira opens his mouth to reply, he cuts him off. "Well, let's go then."

#

Shujin Academy is bigger than Akira's old school, but not by much. Being Sunday, the hallways are conspicuously absent people, both students and teachers. The short walk to the Principal's office gives him little time to learn his way around. But to Akira, it looks just like any other school. There are halls and classrooms and a courtyard.

 _Just another box_.

A dilemma soon presents itself to Akira. He cannot decide if Principal Kobayakowa looks more like a pale toad, or a sentient pile of pudding. The man has no neck and appears on the verge of bursting from his bile-colored suit. Yet, his speech is clear and concise. "Make no mistake, young man. I don't care what kind of trouble you got up to in your hometown. You _will_ behave yourself here."

"Yes sir," Akira replies. The man is just like everyone else. He does not see Akira, but the criminal record.

"Given your history, not many places would have accepted you as a student. I hope you understand how grateful you should be."

Akira's insides churn. _Grateful. Oh, yes. I'm so grateful. I'm grateful for all the false friends. I'm grateful for being abandoned in a customer-less cafe. I'm grateful for that woman's testimony. I'm grateful for the man who was assaulting her, who couldn't even bother to show up at the trial. I'm grateful for my expulsion. I'm grateful for the move. I'm grateful for the mother who doesn't want to speak with me. Oh, yes, sir. I'm ever so fucking grateful._

"Yes, sir. I am, sir," he says.

"Keep your nose clean, or we'll clean it for you."

"I will, sir."

The Principal pivots his bulbous head towards Sojiro. "Sakura-san, please keep him out of trouble."

Sojiro was, and is, staring at his cuticles with intensity. "Hey," he says, his tone dismissive, "he ain't my kid."

The fourth person and the only woman in the room sighs. It is explained to Akira that this is his homeroom teacher, Kawakami-sensei. She is around Akira's height, is thin and pretty with curly black hair. Her yellow sweater and denim skirt make her look younger than she must be. _In a school uniform, she wouldn't look any older than me._ What she does look is exhausted. There are deep circles under her eyes that makeup fails to hide. Her skin has a sickly pallor to it. "Are you sure," she asks, "that my class is the best place for him?"

"Well, we can’t very well put in him a class with Sakamoto. Who knows what kind of trouble they would get into together?" The Principal replies.

"It's just that-"

"Sorry," Sojiro interrupts Kawakami. "But are you done with him? I need to get back to my shop."

"Oh, of course," the Principal states. "I apologize for keeping you." Pleasantries are exchanged. Akira follows Sojiro out the door, after bowing to his new principal and homeroom teacher. Neither returns it.

#

Kawakami doesn't so much drop into her chair as she does collapse. The faculty office is empty save for her, and assured of her solitude, she lets out a long, angry, and deep groan. "Why me?" She folds her arms atop her desk and rests her head on them. A transfer student was one thing, but one with a criminal record? Principal Kobayakowa had explained his acceptance as a way of bolstering the school's reputation, that it showed Shujin was dedicated to the ‘bright futures of all Japan's youth, no matter their past mistakes.' She almost felt bad for Kurusu. Sure, what he did was horrible, but to use a student - any student - in such a way felt wrong.

 _Speaking of... did he really assault someone?_ The thin, bespectacled boy had been the model of quiet respect, even as the Principal had lashed into him. He didn't seem hotheaded, like Sakamoto. "I guess you really can't judge a book by..." the cliché dissolves into a yawn. God, but she's tired.

The door to the office opens and a tall, lean figure steps inside. "Ah, Miss Kawakami, so good to see you!" Mister Kamoshida calls, holding up a hand in greeting.

Kawakami rolls her eyes. _Great. This creep_. "Good morning, Kamoshida-sensei."

"Oh, come on now, we've known each other too long for such formalities." His bright smile reminds her of bleach for some reason.

"What brings you here?" She asks. "It's Sunday."

"Well, the volleyball rally is coming up, and I wanted to make sure my team was in top shape. There's a lot riding on this."

 _You mean your ego?_ "Ah, that's right. I must've forgotten about it." Something flashes across Kamoshida's face, a terrible mix of rage and arrogance. Then it is gone, and his smile returns. _Books and covers_. Her grandmother had been an avid book collector, but had been terrible at keeping them in good condition. Once, when Kawakami was a little girl, she visited her grandmother's house and snuck up to the attic. She found a fairytale book with an elaborate blue and gold stitched cover. Excited in the way that only little girls can be, she'd opened the cover to the first page. A millipede the size of her hand had scuttled out and wrapped itself around her wrist. She'd screamed until she lost her voice.

She knows, that behind the cover Kamoshida shows to the world, lurks something else. If things were different, perhaps she could do something. But things aren't different. They are the way they are, and Kawakami has her own problems.

"Well, I just dropped by to see if anyone was in the faculty office," Kamoshida says. _Why?_ Kawakami thinks. "I should get going. Have a good rest of your weekend."

He leaves, and Kawakami sticks her tongue out at the shut door. "Jackass," she mumbles. _Alright then, Akira Kurusu_. There has to be _something_ she can do for him. She has far too many responsibilities to give him any of her time, but perhaps there was someone else? Someone responsible? Someone who could walk Kurusu through the academics at Shujin, to at least give him a chance?

The perfect person pops into her mind. Pleased with herself, Kawakami picks up the phone and pulls down a copy of the student directory. She turns a few pages, finds the right number, and dials.

Someone picks up on the second ring. "Hi, it's Miss Kawakami. I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I'd like your help with something."

#

Traffic is bad. Sojiro's face darkens as the ride goes on. "Goddammit," he finally whispers, then shoots a glare at Akira in the passenger seat. "You're taking the train, starting tomorrow." Akira nods. Sojiro frowns at this, turns his attention back to the street, and asks, "So, how was it? The school, I mean."

"It seems fine," Akira replies. A nice, neutral answer.

Sojiro shakes his head. "They really cut into you, back there. And that teacher of yours, Kawakami was it? She looked sick or something." He sighs and dances his fingers across the top of the steering wheel. "Just, don't do anything to get in trouble, alright? I've got enough problems just taking you in."

"Why did you take me in?" Akira asks. The words slip from him before he can bite them back. His mind continues the thought. _After all, you think I'm just some useless delinquent. You're extraordinarily inconvenienced by this whole thing, apparently. So why?_

Sojiro keeps his eyes on the road. "I know someone who knows your mother. When I heard about what had happened... well, it doesn't matter. You're here now, and if you want to stay here, you'll stay out of trouble."

Sojiro's phone rings. His ringtone is a ritzy little waltz. He picks it up straightaway and says, "Hello?" Akira hears a high-pitched voice on the other end, but can't make out the words. "What'd you mean, it's not the right one? The other one? What other one? I don't know what _other_ other one means." He lets out a little groan. "Alright, alright. I'll go pick it up. Yes. Yes, right now. Good god, yes. I'll see you soon." He hangs up the phone with a, "Sheesh."

"Was that your wife?" Akira asks. It has dawned on him that he _still_ knows nothing about Sojiro Sakura, save for what he has experienced firsthand. He is not even sure where the man lives.

Sojiro's face balls up into an angry grimace. "The hell would make you think I'm married?"

"Sorry, I-"

"Why don't you mind your own damn business? How about that?" Akira does not understand the anger, but he knows he should have just kept his mouth shut. "You know what?" Sojiro asks, after glancing at the standstill traffic. He leans over and reaches across Akira's lap. "I've got a stop to make," he says and opens the passenger door. "We're close to the nearest station. Why don't you find your own damn way home?" He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a single key, then hands it to Akira. "For the shop. Out."

Akira stares at him, hoping he'll change his mind. He hadn't meant to offend the man, couldn't Sojiro understand that? But the look on his caretaker's face is stern and determined. Akira undoes his seatbelt and steps out of the car. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns his head and stares back at Sojiro. The middle aged man does not meet his gaze, and the traffic eventually inches itself along, and his car drives around the corner and is gone.

#

Akira is angry, alone, and lost. Not lost in the sense that he does not know where he is. His GPS has led him to the station he'll catch a ride to Shibuya from, but the strangeness - the unfamiliarity - with everything around him is overwhelming. When he steps onto the escalator, descending into the station proper, he is almost relieved at the vaguely familiar ads lining the walls, and the ever-distracted commuters that inhabit any station.

His phone beeps.

He checks it.

The red eyed app is back. It does not grow this time, but sits on his phone as if it has always been there; as if it has been waiting for Akira to remember it. Before his thoughts can coalesce, he deletes it once more, only to discover, when he glances up from his phone, that he is alone on the escalator.

The multitudes of faceless people are gone.

At the base of the escalator, the blue flame crackles.

"H-how?" He whispers.

A voice roars through the hollow subway tunnel, "THOUGH THOU BE CHAINED TO HELL ITSELF!" The flames part, and Akira stares at himself once more, with the same madman grin, the same golden eyes. His double's lips part and mouths something. Akira cannot hear the words, but knows what they are. "Thou art I." A blood-red hand reaches out of the flames, fingers splayed, towards him.

Akira takes a step back up the steps...

... and collides with the commuter behind him. He blinks and the vision is gone. He is moving on the escalator once more. People surround him. When he reaches the platform, he stumbles onto it. His head pounds, his heart beats fast, his breath is coming in not-quite-ragged gasps. The commuters stare at him. No one approaches him to ask if he's alright. Instead, they subtly, with their heads still buried in their phones and conversations, shift away from him a few more steps than necessary.

Exhausted, Akira plants himself on one of the benches. It is this distance from the tracks that saves his life.

 _What is happening to me? What was that?_ Fragments of last night's dream return to him, of the long-nosed thing named Igor, and his question. _"How far are you willing to go for your rehabilitation?"_

In an explosion of screeching metal, screams, dust and pulverized stone, a train barrels out of the subway tunnel, hops the rails, and smashes its way onto the platform. Akira has a single moment to take this in before he is blown from the bench by the pressure. He hits the concrete and skids a few inches. Dust washes over him and into his nose and mouth. On instinct, he wraps his arms around his head, shuts his eyes, and waits.

His ears ring. He feels a stillness, a settling. He cracks his eyes open and sees a number of similar people, huddled up as he is, all of them covered in the dust, making them appear as sleeping specters. Akira pats himself down. He feels nothing. He is unharmed, he thinks.

Slowly, he gets up, and allows himself to witness the devastation. The train cars lay scattered at odd angles both on the tracks and off them. Wires hang loose from the ceiling, sparking bits of orange and white. When his ears pop, he hears the wounded moans and sobs of the people around him. Few people move, but most seem alive if heavily injured. Some are sprawled with their faces turned from him, and if their chests rise and fall, the movement is too shallow for him to notice.

A hand grips his shoulder. He is spun into the face of a man in a white helmet. He wears some kind of jumpsuit, and carries a small case with a red cross on it in his hands. Akira knows he should understand what all this mean, but his mind isn't functioning properly. The words the man shouts at him are jumbled nonsense. He speaks a few times, before he gives up and pats Akira down. He shines a light in Akira's eyes and moves it back and forth. Akira's gaze follows it. He holds up his finger and does the same thing. Akira's gaze follows it. He nods, and gently pushes Akira towards the undamaged escalator.

More men in white helmets are pouring down the steps, and spreading themselves out among the injured. He understands that this is a rescue operation, and that he should not be here. He will only get in their way. Akira staggers to the steps, and works his way up them, one at a time.

#

Akira's journey home is its own dreary adventure, filled with confused cab drivers, switching stations, and the slow return of his mind. Ultimately, the result is mundane in that he reaches LeBlanc after the sun has set and the moon is high.

Starving, exhausted, dehydrated and still in a bit of shock, Akira stumbles through the cafe's front door, and directly into a wall of words from Sojiro.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sojiro asks. His voice is the harshest Akira has heard it. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Akira does, and he rattles the number off. Sojiro fixes him with a hard glare. "I was in the station," Akira says, settling into an empty booth. "When the train hit."

"Wait, what?" Sojiro stares at him, but Akira does not reply. "You were there? At the station?" Akira nods. "Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head. "No. I wasn't - I mean, it came close but it didn't hit me."

"Well, are you sure? Did you hurt your head or anything? You could have a concussion!"

"Someone checked on me. I think they said I was fine."

Sojiro stares at him for a time. Then he goes to the fridge and pulls out a plate wrapped in foil. He grabs a bottle of water in his other hand and brings them around the counter to Akira's booth. "Here," he says, dropping them in front of him. "You must be starving. And thirsty. Shit, and exhausted."

Akira pulls back the wrapping and finds a heap of curry. It looks like the same he ate that morning, but he is not going to complain about this. He picks up the fork and digs in. Sojiro leans against the bar and stares at him.

"Listen," he says, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and his eyes studying the ceiling. "I'm, uh, sorry. About kicking you out of the car. That wasn't... well, I'm sorry."

Akira looks up at him. He doesn't know what to do about this. He opens his mouth to reply with something, but Sojiro cuts back into the silence.

"This means the trains are gonna be delayed. And that means you're going to have to leave even earlier tomorrow if you're going to get to school."

"Oh, yeah."

"So get to bed. I'll take care of your dishes tonight, but that’s the last time. From now on, if you eat here, you have to clean up after yourself."

"Yes, sir."

Sojiro busies himself wrapping things up at the cafe, then snatches back the plate, utensils and empty water bottle once Akira is finished with them. "Get some sleep, kid," he says by way of goodnight. Akira nods, thanks him for the food, and goes upstairs.

After changing, he collapses into bed and his last coherent thought is of the blue flame, the crash and the thing called Igor. _What the hell is going on?_ Then he falls into a deeper sleep than he's had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wanted to switch a few things around, namely Kawakami's attitude and the whole 'mental shutdown' thing. Aside from the cutscene, we don't experience much in the way of the latter, save through overheard dialogue and the TV. Having Akira experience the direct result of someone else's mental shutdown - I hope - will lead to his having more of a stake in resolving the issues down the line.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. Can you guess who Kawakami called?


	4. An Unhinged Thief

4/11

Akira's deep rest backfires, as he wakes later than he wants, must scarf down the breakfast Sojiro has prepared, and then navigate the bizarre world of Tokyo's subway system.

He finds himself beneath the thin awning of a convenience store. Rain falls in a drizzle, but it is still rain, and he has no umbrella. School, according to his GPS, is only a few blocks away, but he already looks like a mess.

His phone beeps.

He looks.

The app has returned. "What is this thing?" He whispers. He places his thumb over the icon, to delete it _again_ , but the sound of splashing footsteps distracts him. Someone shares the awning with him. She is thin, wears a thick gray hood, and complements her Shujin Academy uniform with red leggings beneath the skirt.

"Crap," comes a light, feminine voice as she reaches pale hands up to the hood. She pulls it back to reveal a mane of blonde hair, pulled into two stylish pig tails, bright green eyes and soft lips.

The girl looks at him, and Akira can't help but meet her eyes. There's a short moment of silence save for the sound of falling rain and feet on wet pavement. Then, she gives him a warm, little smile. The corners of Akira's mouth begin to tug upward...

...and then a horn blasts through the white noise. Both teens jump, and turn towards the source. A white compact car is pulled up alongside the curb. Akira watches as the window rolls down, revealing a flat face topped with a mop of black hair. It is an older man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, but when he smiles he seems five to six years younger. "Sorry," he calls in a strong voice. "Didn't mean to startle you. Would you like a ride? It looks like it might keep coming down for a while."

Akira hears a short hitch in the girl’s voice when she says, "Yeah, thanks."

As she approaches the car, the man looks at Akira and asks, "Would you like a ride too?" Akira feels a threat beneath the words; that he should not accept. Whether it’s his gut instinct, or some subliminal message the man is broadcasting, Akira can't tell.

He gives a quick shake of his head and adds a polite, "No, thank you," but the man is no longer paying attention to him. The blonde girl gets in, and the window begins to roll up. Akira catches a glimpse of a downtrodden look in the girl's eyes. Then, all he sees is his own murky reflection in the glass, and the car drives off.

 _Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!_ Akira blinks and a blonde-haired boy dashes by. His eyes follow the car until it turns the corner. "Shit," he spits, then stops, hunches over and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Screw that pervy teacher."

The words are so odd, Akira repeats them before he can think not to. "Pervy teacher?" His phone beeps, but he ignores it.

The blonde boy turns and glares. His eyes dart over him, and Akira realizes he's been sized up. The kid stalks up to him, a scowl on his face. "What? Are you going to rat me out to Kamoshida?" He asks, his voice dripping with implied menace.

Akira has seen too much, between his trial, brief stint in juvy, and yesterday’s train crash to be fazed by this boy's machismo. "I don't know who that is. I don't know who you are either."

The boy's eyes narrow. "What'd you mean, you don't know who Kamoshida is? Kamoshida is, well, Kamoshida! He thinks Shujin Academy is his own personal castle, and he's the King!" Akira's phone beeps. Again, he ignores it.

"Oh, is he a teacher at Shujin?"

The boy takes his hands from his pocket and holds them out, palms up. "Dude, are you like, touched in the head or something? How do you not know all this?"

Akira frowns. "I'm transferring in today."

The boy's face drops. "Oh. Oh, shit." He sighs, and steps out of the rain. "I'm sorry, man. I had no idea. Explains why I didn't recognize you." Beneath his breath, Akira hears him mutter, "There I go again, running my mouth." He turns to Akira, smiles, and holds out his hand. "I'm Ryuji Sakamoto." Akira finds the name familiar, but cannot say from where. Ryuji’s eyes fall on the pins that adorn Akira's collar. "You're a second year too, huh? Maybe you'll be in my class."

Akira stares at the outstretched hand for a moment, then reaches out his own. "Akira Kurusu. Nice to meet you." They shake. Ryuji’s uniform is unbuttoned and clashes with the bright yellow t-shirt he wears beneath. Only his pants - the same red and black plaid as Akira's - maintain any sense of decorum.

"Anyway," Ryuji continues. "Sucks you had a run in with him on your first day. And Takamaki... Well, whatever. Come on, I'll show you a shortcut to school.” He holds his hand out from the awning. "Looks like the rain is dying down too. Let's-" He takes a step and doubles over, his hands going to his head.

Akira misses this, because a quick stab of white hot pain shoots its way through his skull. He groans and grips his temples.

"Man, I feel sick all of a sudden," Ryuji mumbles. "What the hell?" He straightens and rubs his eyes with his thumbs. Akira regains himself as well, and looks around. Nothing's out of the ordinary. He doesn't see any pedestrians, but the rain must've kept them inside. "Let's go," Ryuji says, setting off down the sidewalk. "You don't want to be late on your first day. People will start saying weird shit about you."

#

 _Tick. Tock_. Kawakami stares at the clock.

 _Tick. Tock_. Kawakami stares at the clock.

 _Tick. Tock_. Kawakami stares at the clock.

The minute hands moves. She sighs. "Late," she says, and then looks at the third year student standing alongside her desk. "Late on the first day. Unbelievable!"

Makoto Niijima stands upright. Her hands are folded politely in front of her. Her short brown hair is perfectly styled and held in place by a matching headband. Her clothes are smooth, ironed and immaculate. In this, Kawakami is a bit jealous. She knows she looks like she just crawled out from beneath a rock for the first time in a decade. Her body aches and her skin sucks and her hair - while acceptable - is still something of a mess. _Being jealous of a student is unbecoming of a teacher._ She tells herself this, and then tells herself to shut up.

She leans back in her chair and says, "I'm sorry I called you here so early for nothing, Niijima-san."

Makoto shakes her head. "Please, think nothing of it. I'm happy to help any student at Shujin. It's my responsibility, after all."

 _Actually, it's mine_. Kawakami does not say this. She is too deep in her own problems to give in to doubt now. "Still, I do appreciate it. I guess I just figured that introducing him to the Student Council President would help him adjust."

Makoto's words are precise and deliberate. "When he does arrive, I'd be happy to meet him."

"Don't be so sure," Kawakami says before she can stop herself. A slight shift in Makoto's brows is the only indicator of surprise. With a sigh she feels throughout her body, she pushes herself to her feet and says, "Come on, I'll walk you back to class."

"Oh, there's no need."

"Forget it. This is happening. Besides," she says as she leads the way to the faculty office's door. "Maybe we'll run into him downstairs."

Homeroom is set to begin soon, but the halls are packed with the same amount of gossiping students as ever. They hunch over their phones, bring their heads together in whispered conversations, and generally ignore Kawakami and Makoto as they head down the hall.

"Did you hear about the transfer student we're supposed to be getting?" Kawakami freezes. This from a young second year girl to her friends. "I hear he assaulted someone."

_How the hell do they know that?_

"I heard he was in a gang. Or was. The rumor is that he got kicked out for having a beef with the leader."

 _Wait, what?_ She looks at Makoto, who must be hearing the same things she is. The girl appears unfazed. But ‘appears’ doesn't mean 'isn't.' "Come on," she says, not bothering to correct the girls. Even if she says anything to counter the rumor, they will only take it as vindication.

Only, it isn't just the girls. Somehow, the entire student body knows about Akira. They just don’t know the facts.

"I hear he's supposed to carry a knife."

"He's got a scar on his face. Like, his whole face!"

"If you make eye contact with him, he'll kill you."

"He can kill you, just by writing your name in a notebook!"

 _Okay_ , Kawakami figures. _That last one is probably just some anime the kid watched_. That excluded, almost everyone is engaged in some warped, bizarre conversation about Akira Kurusu. _The poor kid has no chance_ , she realizes. _They've already judged him_. It makes her sad, that kids can be so cruel.

They near Makoto's homeroom, and Kawakami reassesses the student council president. Her eyes are on the floor, and there' a slight blush to her cheeks. She's biting her lower lip, and doesn't appear to notice. Kawakami reaches out a hand and rests it on the girl's shoulder. Makoto glances up, startled. "I met him yesterday," she says, channeling the teacher she's always wanted to be. "He seemed perfectly respectful, quiet and calm. He looks totally normal. I mean, sure that could all be an act, and I've got no idea where he is, but I don't believe the rumors, and neither should you."

Makoto seems to find some resolve. Her face grows more serious and she nods. "Yes, Kawakami-sensei. Please, introduce me when he does arrive. I'd be happy to help him adjust."

Kawakami smiles. She can't help herself. "Oh, don't worry, I will. There's at least one reason to look forward to meeting him, Niijima-san." She leans in and whispers, "He's pretty cute." Makoto's eyes widen only a bit, but the blush returns in force. "Well, see you soon." She walks off, leaving the normally stoic Makoto Niijima looking positively non-stoic.

_Alright, Akira Kurusu. I'm done covering your ass. You better have a damn good excuse when you do show up._

#

_"Hello? Hey! It's me."_

_"Akira?"_

_"Yeah. Man, can you hang out tonight? I need to talk to someone."_

_"I didn't think the trial would be over so soon."_

_"Open and shut case. That's what the judge said, anyway. So, can we hit the manga cafe?"_

_"I don't think I can. I need to, uh, study."_

_"Oh, okay then. How about tomorrow?"_

_"Yeah. Well, maybe. I'll let you know."_

_"You've heard I've been expelled, right? You won't see me at school. Text me after, okay?"_

_"Y-yeah.”_

\--

_"Hey, it's me! Where have you been, man?"_

_"Oh, Akira. Hi. Um, can I call you back?"_

_"I've texted you, like, a hundred times. What's going on?"_

_"I've been busy."_

_"Yeah, you and everyone else. Come on, please. What's happening?"_

_"It's... it's our parents, okay? Given everything you did-"_

_"Everything I did? I explained all this to you. You know that guy lied, right? The woman too. You don't believe I'd actually do that, right?"_

_"..."_

_"Hello?"_

_"I'm sorry."_

\--

_"Look man, please don't hang up, alright? I really, really need someone to talk to. Please."_

_"... I'm sorry, Akira."_

_"Wait, please. Wait!"_

_Click._

#

"Yo, dude! Wake up!" The voice is far away.

"Don't...don't hang up," Akira mumbles. "Please. I need..."

Sensation returns. He feels hands on his shoulders, smells mildew and iron, and tastes blood in his mouth.

"Akira!"

Akira's eyes open, and the worried face of the blonde boy is staring down at him. _Ryuji. His name is Ryuji Sakamoto_. "Wh-what?"

Ryuji lets him go and stands up. "Finally! You freaked me out man. That thing hit you so hard, I thought you were in a coma or something!"

"Thing?" Akira asks. "What thing?" It is then that he notices the environment he is in. A box. One made of red stones, black bars with chains and manacles hanging from above. He lies on a filthy, yellow-stained cot. Another box.

"Are you-" Ryuji starts, but Akira remembers. Remembers finding a castle where the school should’ve been. Remembers walking inside and entering that strange hall with the chandeliers and pillars. Remembers the things in black armor that swarmed them. Remembers their shields and swords. He remembers a sharp pain in the base of his skull, and then nothing.

He sits up. "Ryuji, where the hell are we?"

"How should I know?" Ryuji asks. "At first I thought this was a TV set, but I don't see no cameras. Not to mention..." He trails off as a long, faint scream echoes down the hall. "There's that. We need to get out of here, fast." He holds out his hand, and Akira takes it. Ryuji pulls him to his feet and says, "Help me look."

"There's nothing to see, Sakamoto."

Both boys turn towards the voice, and find a tall, black haired man dressed in nothing but a thick fur cape and sharp pink speedo, standing behind the bars. A golden crown sits on his brow. It matches his eyes.

"Ka-kamoshida?" Ryuji asks, eyes bulging.

"The pervy teacher?” Akira asks.

Kamoshida's golden eyes turn to regard him. "Oh? You brought a friend. I didn't know you had any left."

"What the hell is going on?" Ryuji shouts. "What'd you do to the school? Why're we locked up in here?"

"The school? I didn't do anything to it. It's exactly as it should be. Though, to think the infamous Ryuji Sakamoto would possess the nerve to sneak in, or do anything, for that matter, without my permission. Unforgivable." He claps his hands, and a pair of armored guards stalks from the shadows. "Bring these knaves to the execution grounds. Their punishment shall be death."

The guards clap their swords to their chests. Metal rings against metal. "All Hail, King Kamoshida!" They shout.

The door swings open. The guards enter. Ryuji is shouting for an explanation, for things to make sense. Strong, gauntleted hands seize Akira's shoulders. He does not think to struggle. His mind is lost somewhere else. It cannot understand how any of this real.

They pass dozens of cells, filled with young men not unlike themselves, all of them alternating between begging for some kind of mercy, and praising King Kamoshida.

"Long live King Kamoshida!"

"All Hail King Kamoshida!"

"Glory to King Kamoshida!"

A black sky greets them as they are dragged into a courtyard. The space is massive, the size of several gymnasiums, and in the center is a raised platform upon which rest a series of metal stumps. Before the platform, is a gilded throne, tacky with jewels and leather, atop a short, grey stone staircase.

Kamoshida reclines on this, lazily. A blonde girl, dressed in a skimpy, pink bikini, sits in his lap. Akira recognizes her as the girl from under the awning.

"Takamaki!" Ryuji shouts, when he sees her. "What the hell are you doing? Get away from her, you son of a bitch!" The guards force Ryuji and Akira forward, the former struggling, the latter just getting dragged.

Kamoshida laughs. "Save your breath, Sakamoto. This one," and he strokes the girl's hair with his left hand. "Knows her place. It's a pity you could never learn yours." The girl has a ditzy look on her face, and she giggles like a schoolgirl when he says this.

"Dammit," Ryuji screams, as he's led up the steps of the platform.

On the steps to the throne, a dozen girls lounge like cats on a cushion. They are all young, all beautiful, all dressed in revealing clothing. All of them regard the two boys with contempt.

"Takamaki!" Ryuji is still shouting. "Ann! Snap out of it! Help us!"

The guards drag Akira onto the platform alongside Ryuji. In an almost synchronized movement, the guards force the two of them to their knees. A fist grips Akira’s head and forces it against the cold metal stump.

"Oh my god," Ryuji whimpers. "Oh my god, oh my god."

"Hold!" The voice rings out across the courtyard, and Akira can turn his head just enough to see Kamoshida standing before his throne, his hand held up, palm out.

"My King?" One of the guards asks.

"This is my Castle, is it not? Therefore, I think it should be me who ends their pathetic lives."

"Of course, My King!"

The guards chat amongst themselves excitedly, and Kamoshida begins to descend from his throne. As he passes the scantily clad girls, they reach out adoringly and caress his bare chest, abs, legs, and even his crotch. His smile is twisted and horrible, but Akira pays little attention to it.

Behind the throne, a blue flame burns.

Pain shoots through his mind. He takes half a breath before he must release it in a scream. Someone is hammering railway spikes into his brain.

The flame warps itself into a humanoid figure, and steps towards him. "You should have left them alone." A voice reverberates through his bones, and Akira recognizes it as his own, though there's a faint, sinister lilt. "It would have been easier, yes?"

"Akira?" He hears Ryuji call his name, but Akira cannot reply. He cannot think! It hurts _so_ much!

If anyone else can see the burning blue figure approach, they give no indication. Kamoshida struts leisurely across the field towards the platform, but the burning man is beginning to outpace him.

"All the torment you've suffered! All the shame! All the anger! It could've been avoided. You should have just left them alone. You should have walked on. Ignored the screams. Listened to his threats. You should have done nothing." The figure stands before the platform now, and through the writhing agony, Akira can see himself, eyes wide and golden, smile twisted and baleful.

_Help! Someone help!_

"Help?" The second Akira asks. "No one is coming to help you. You are going to die here. That boy you're with? He's going to die here, too. Are you going to watch it happen? Are you going to accept it?" It climbs onto the platform, and leans down into Akira's face. "Admit it. It was all a mistake. Admit. It."

A spike in the pain brings a moment of clarity. It returns him to that cool night, not so long ago. He feels the smooth concrete of the road beneath his feet, smells the clean air. He hears the screams, and finds the two once more. The man with his hands on the woman, his clothes soaked through with alcohol. The woman, the buttons on her blouse already ripped away, her eyes wide and teary with fear. She sees him, and she cries out for help. She begs him for help. Him. Akira Kurusu. Because there is no one else.

He glares at his double, and thinks of the look in his mother's eyes when he was declared guilty, of the friends who stopped talking to him once the trial ended, of the judge who declared him a delinquent, the teachers who believed it, and he thinks of Sojiro who sees him as a pain in the ass, the pudding Principal who wants him to ‘keep his nose clean,’ Miss Kawakami who can't be bothered. He glares at his double and realizes that all of this _could_ have been avoided, if only he had walked away that night.

But.

Through gritted teeth, he growls, "It _wasn't_ a mistake!"

And his double's grin grows, and it replies, "Very good."

Kamoshida scales the platform, and takes a sword off one of the guards.

The figure vanishes, the pain intensifies, and he hears the words, "VOW TO ME. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. THOU WHO ART WILLING TO PERFORM ALL SACRILEGIOUS ACTS FOR THINE OWN JUSTICE!"

Kamoshida raises the sword over Ryuji's head. "Goodbye, Sakamoto."

Akira's fist rises and crashes into the metal stump, denting it. The king turns and regards the young man.

"CALL UPON MY NAME AND RELEASE THY RAGE! SHOW THE STRENGTH OF THY WILL TO ASCERTAIN ALL ON THINE OWN, THOUGH THOU BE CHAINED TO HELL ITSELF!"

"What are-" Kamoshida begins, but a gust of wind rips down from above and knocks him off balance. The guards are shaken, and the fist that held Akira's head is gone.

Akira straightens. His glasses are gone. Something else has taken their place. He reaches up to feel what it is.

"Per..."

His hands find the smooth ivory of a mask. It covers his eyes and nose, a masquerade caricature.

"...so..."

He grips the edges of the mask and pulls. His skin peels and tears away from the muscle and bone beneath. His last syllable becomes a scream as it rips free.

"....NA!"

His blood dashes along the top of the platform, and pours onto the metal stump. Blue flame engulfs him as a deep laugh echoes across the courtyard.

Kamoshida jumps back. "Wh-what?"

The guards, distracted, have let Ryuji go. The boy falls away from the stump, and stares, slack jawed, at Akira as he stands.

He turns around. His eyes - his own - are wide and free, and the smile on his face is confident and wild. The flames dance across his body, and turn to cloth. A long obsidian three-tailed overcoat over a thin charcoal long-sleeved turtleneck. Sable slacks. Blood red gloves. Slick black shoes.

Akira throws back his head and cries, "ARSENE!"

The remaining flame explodes upwards, and coalesces into a nightmare. A blood red frockcoat with a death white ascot.  A mockery of a top hat. Over-long, spindle fingers tipped in claws. Long, terrible corvid wings like those of a devil’s. The smirking furnace of a face. Thick chains form in Akira's gloved hands. They loop up and around the beast. Akira spreads his arms wide, tosses the bonds aside, and both creature and man roar in exultation.

"Excellent!" Arsene cries. "You have thrown aside your false heart and embraced the power of your rebellion!" It hunches over him, and asks, "What do you ask of me?"

Akira glances at Kamoshida and the guards. He smiles. "Ravage them."

"With pleasure." It screeches, and rises into the air. Tendrils of black and red lance from it wings, curling towards his enemies.

One guard throws itself in front of Kamoshida, and the fronds pierce its armor and mask. It gives one short gasp of pain before vanishing into a cloud of black ash.

Kamoshida dashes down the steps of the platform, before spinning back and asking, "Wh-what the hell are you?"

Akira takes a step towards him. "A delinquent."

"How dare you!" One guard screams and hurls himself towards him. Akira feels something form in his hand. It is a long, curved black knife.

"These ones block your path!” Arsene calls. “They seek to stifle, to contain. Let them feel your rage!" The guard swings his sword, but Akira sidesteps. The blade in his hand is moving before he can think to fight back, and it punctures the thing's armor like so much tin. It dissolves with a choked cry.

 _I'm faster. Stronger too_. That isn't all. There is a reason he is smiling. Even as a part of him rebels at everything, screams that none of this makes any sense and can't possibly be real, the largest part of himself is thrilled. This all feels _so_ good.

"Tell me something, your majesty," Akira says to the king. "How should a peasant living under the thumb of an unjust ruler conduct himself?" He is that other part of himself now. The one with the golden eyes. His words are its words. Its words are his. "Should he let himself be trampled beneath the wheels of a tyrant's ambition?" His boots pound on the boards of the platform as he walks. "Should he let himself fade away, content with his lot of falsehoods and inconsequence?" He crouches on the edge of the platform, right before Kamoshida's sweat drenched face. "Or..." he holds up his knife and inclines the point towards his own eye. “Should he smash the king?" Akira swings his blade for the man’s neck. Kamoshida yelps, recoils just beyond the knife’s range, and falls back onto the grass.

"My King!" Another guard shouts. Others take up the chorus. Five guards move to their lord's side, gather him up and begin to shuffle him towards the safety of the Castle. The girls, whoever they are, have all been shrieking since Arsene appeared, and cluster behind Kamoshida as he is led away.

Two guards try their luck with Akira, but Arsene eviscerates them.

Akira straightens and to Arsene, his Persona, says, "Lend me your power." The creature nods and vanishes.

Ryuji scurries a bit further away when Akira turns to him. "D-d-dude! What the hell was all that?"

Akira smiles – it is warm this time - and walks over to him. He leans over, offers a hand and says, "I know, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Today's is to be a busy one, so I wanted to post this early. I had to break this day up into two chapters, for length and thematic reasons. The rest will be posted Wednesday.  
> Just to be clear on a few things, although all I've posted so far has a ratio of one day per chapter, that it not going to be the case. Some days are a proper length for a whole chapter. Others are better off broken into several. Some chapters (I've written several) lend themselves to a stretch of several days. One of the latest chapters I wrote contains four days. So, if you thought this was going to be a plod, don't worry.  
> Well, no, it's still going to be 'long ride' as one commentor put it, just not for that specific reason.  
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you all continue to do so!


	5. Consequences of Truancy

Akira pulls Ryuji to his feet. "How’d you do all of that?” The boy asks. “ _What_ was all of that?"

Akira takes in his gloved hands, the midnight overcoat. "I don't know." It's true. He doesn't understand what has happened. He knows, instinctually, that Arsene is part of him. His Persona. Yet, he does not know what that means.

"H-Hey, look!" Ryuji points to the castle's entrance. Six guards have emerged and charge, swords high, shields ready.

Akira smirks. "No problem." He steps towards them.

His clothes change. A flash of blue and he is in his school uniform once more. The energy drains from his body, and he doubles over, his hands on his knees. "Wh-what?"

"Oh, shit. Dude, what's wrong? Can't you do the thing?" The guards close in. Ryuji takes Akira's arm and shakes it. "Come on, man! What's wrong?"

Akira's mind spins. _What's happening? What's wrong? Arsene!_ There is no response.

The guards are nearly upon them. "Screw it!" Ryuji shouts. "Come on, man! We've got to run!"

"Amateurs," says a high-pitched, boyish voice. A small, black and white flash darts from beneath the platform and moves to intercept the guards.

"Huh?" Ryuji asks. Akira can only stare. It is a cat. A cat on its hind legs, with a bulbous head dressed with a yellow scarf and _tool belt_.

It stops before the guards, strikes a pose with its feet squared, head up, and shoulders back. "Come out," it calls, "Zorro!"

A cyclone of blue flame spins up above the cat creature, and a huge, barrel-chested, black caped figure emerges. One arm behind its back, the other grips a rapier in a mocking salute to the guards.

"Show your might!" The cat cries, and Zorro swishes its blade through the air in a 'z' pattern. Six pillars of wind-whipped air twist around the approaching guards. They lift off the ground and whimper, briefly, before they collapsed back to earth in heaps of black ash.

Zorro vanishes. The cat turns back to the platform and the boys. "You two better be grateful."

They look at each other. "Is that a cat?" Ryuji asks.

"Must be."

The thing glares. "I don't have time to correct you right now. You both need to leave before more guards arrive."

To Akira, Ryuji asks, "Do you have the slightest idea about what's going on?"

Akira shakes his head. "I do not."

The cat groans. "Look, do you two idiots want to get out of here or not? I have no idea how you got here from the real world, but I'll have you know I just blew my whole infiltration to save your sorry butts."

"What'd you mean, by the real world?” Akira asks.

The cat begins to hop up and down, flapping its arms wildly. "We don't have time for this! Just come on!"

#

“We're clear. C'mon."

The cat leads them to a storage room with a grate leading to the outside. This, it says, is how it got inside the castle. When Ryuji and Akira tell it they just walked in the front door, the cat calls them fools.

"So, we can get out this way?" Ryuji asks.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Its task almost complete, it relaxes a bit, slings itself against the doorframe and regards the claws on its paw with indifference. "But I have to say, frizzy hair, I wouldn't have thought you'd be able to summon a Persona."

"Thanks." He looks down at the cat-thing and says, "But what exactly are you? I mean, you look like a cat and-"

"I'm _not_ a cat," the thing replies, an edge to its voice. "My name is Morgana, and I'm a human. Just like you."

"Uh, but you look like a cat, dude," Ryuji says.

"He has a point."

"Look, I don't have time to explain how distortion and cognition works. I've got a lot of backtracking to do today, thanks to the two of you, so how about you both get through that vent and get lost?"

Ryuji turns his hands up, palms out. "Know what? Fine. I'm done with this crazy place anyway." He approaches the vent and slides himself in. "Akira, dude, you coming?"

"Coming," he says, and climbs into the vent behind Ryuji.

Morgana watches the two of them leave. _Once they reach the outside, their intention to leave should be enough to get them out of here_. He shoves off the wall and turns back towards the hall. _Well, never mind. Without them bumbling around in here, it should be easier to get where I need to_.

#

"Navigation Complete."

Akira and Ryuji stand on a sidewalk. Both are out of breath, doubled over, hands on their knees. The sun breaks through the clouds overhead. People have returned to the streets. A minute passes before either can say anything. Then Ryuji looks at Akira and says, "Dude."

Akira meets his eyes. "Yeah." He feels different. The confidence has leeched out of him. He feels subdued, regulated, bottled up.

"Hey!"

The two look up as a pair of police officers approach them. Their uniforms are crisp and pressed, the buttons on their caps polished. Their eyes are solid and stern. They are not the same men who arrested Akira that night, but they have the same look. He can almost feel the mask of respectful acquiescence slide back over his face. Several facts crash home all at once. They are in the real world once more. They are dressed in school uniforms. They are most likely very, very late for school. He keeps his eyes on the ground.

"What are you two doing here?" One of the officers asks.

"What?" Ryuji asks, his voice high and defensive. "We haven't done anything." Akira wants to tell him to be quiet, but Ryuji just continues on. "Why're you looking at us like that?"

"Those are Shujin Academy uniforms, aren't they?" The second officer asks. "Mind telling us why you aren't in school?"

Ryuji's response is to pull out his phone. His eyes bulge when he sees the time. "Oh, shit! Akira, dude, it's so freaking late! We were in that castle for hours!"

"Castle?" The first officer asks. "Are you two high?"

Ryuji's face is one of outrage, but before he can reply, Akira offers a deep bow and cuts in. "Please, excuse us officers. I sincerely apologize. We will be getting back to school right away." He holds the position, eyes fixed on his own feet.

The second officer grunts in reply. "Fine, get going. Don't let us catch you cutting class again."

"We weren't!" Ryuji shouts, but Akira grabs his arm and drags him away. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Let's go," Akira whispers. "Before we get in more trouble."

They get around the corner when Ryuji turns and says, "What was all that about? We should've-"

"They wouldn't have believed us," Akira replies. He hates how monotone his voice is. "It doesn't matter if our story was believable or not. Adults like them, they see only what they want to see. They don't care about the truth. To them, we're just two kids cutting class. Nothing else."

Ryuji stares at him for a moment, then frowns and says, "Fine." He leads them down the narrow street towards the school, which has reverted to its normal design. "What the hell?" Ryuji asks. Akira doesn't know what to say.

They head towards the main entrance, but Ryuji suddenly blocks Akira's path with his arm. "Hold up. I just thought of something. It's like, lunchtime. If we walk in the main entrance, everyone's gonna see us. Come on." Akira follows Ryuji back down the street, and around to the back of the school. The wall around the campus grounds is low, and the two are able to easily scale over a section of it near the gym. "This way," Ryuji tells him as they climb, "no one will even notice us."

They drop down the other side, and land in the center of a ring of first year girls, who all promptly scream. "Oh shit!" Ryuji cries, and tries to calm them down with platitudes like, "We're just looking at stuff," which only causes the girls to lose it more.

Akira, for his part, stands there, and tries to look meek. The girls scatter eventually, and Ryuji pulls him towards the walkway that cuts through the courtyard. They're barely on the concrete when Akira hears a throat clear behind them.

Kawakami-sensei is standing with her hands on her hips. Her face is contorted into a grimace of barely contained rage. "Five hours," she whispers. A number of other students are present on the crosswalk. Some of them clear the area, fast. Others turn so they can listen better. "You are five hours late."

"We-" Ryuji starts.

"Quiet, Sakamoto," Kawakami growls. "I do not have the time or the patience to deal with you right now. Get out of here." Ryuji stands still, a torn look on his face. "Now."

"Okaysorrybye," Ryuji says, and nods to Akira as he heads off.

Now, Kawakami's ire is focused solely on Akira. Despite all he’s seen in the last few hours, he withers under the glare she gives him. It isn't just a look of anger or frustration, part of her looks sad. The sadness of someone who has had all their suspicions confirmed, but desperately didn't want them to be. "Faculty office. Let's go."

She leads him upstairs, past dozens of students who follow their procession. Akira can almost hear their thoughts. _Who is that guy, and what's he done to piss Kawakami-sensei off so much?_ When they are alone in the faculty office, Kawakami turns on Akira, and the latter can see all the exhaustion in her face take a single, brief hold on her, before she pushes it aside and says, "It's your first day, and you're already pulling something like this? Kurusu-kun, don't you even care?"

He considers telling her about the trains. About his involvement in yesterday's accident, and the delays. But he's five hours late. The delays were bad that morning, but not _that_ bad. "I'm sorry," he says. He is the humble, harmless student once more. He adds, "Very sorry," for good measure.

She sighs. "You're not even going to offer an excuse? I mean, come on, you were with Sakamoto, weren't you? Of all the people you could've met today, you met him."

"Ryuji?"

"Look, I know you're probably lonely. You want friends. Of course, you do. But Sakamoto? He's a troublemaker. A bad one."

"I don't believe you."

They stare at each other in silence. No, what Akira doesn't believe is that he just said that. More words tumble from him before he can shut his dumb mouth. "He seems like a good guy. Maybe he just-"

"That's enough." Her words are cold now. "Don't speak to me like that."

Akira sucks in his lips, bows and says, "I'm sorry, Kawakami-sensei."

The woman looks at the clock on the wall. "Lunchtime is almost over. There _was_ someone I wanted you to meet, but I suppose it'll have to wait until another time." She stares up at him for a moment, then says, "I don't want you pulling something like this again. Got it?" He nods. "Alright, then. You've got to introduce yourself to the class. Come on."

She leads him out as the bell rings. Students shuffle back to their classrooms. Akira follows her down the hall to class 2-B. Kawakami slides open the door to the room and steps inside. "Alright," he hears her call. “Settle down." He steels himself, and follows her inside.

The first person he notices is the blonde girl from the castle. The one Ryuji called Takamaki. She sits with her head propped up on her hand, gazing out the window, indifferent to whatever’s going on up front. She glances in his direction once, blinks, and then looks back out the window. That is not the reaction Akira had been expecting.

"...Akira Kurusu," Kawakami is saying. "We had him come late today because he wasn't feeling well." At this, Takamaki does perk up, and looks at Akira with suspicion. _Does she remember what happened in the castle?_ "Introduce yourself to the class," Kawakami says.

It is only then that Akira notices how nervous everyone in the room looks. They all regard him with trepidation. He bows and says, "I'm Akira Kurusu. I hope we get along."

The whispers begin.

"It's him, the one I told you about."

"Quiet, he's looking right at us."

"Do you think he really keeps a knife on him?"

"I don't see a scar, maybe it's on his chest or something."

Akira does not understand what is happening. Why are they afraid of him? He glances at Kawakami, who frowns and looks at the ground. _She knew about this_. The rumors continue to escalate, even as he stands there, even as he hears them all. "Quiet down," his teacher finally says. She points at a desk near the back corner. It is directly behind Takamaki. "Take a seat over there, alright?" Akira nods and heads for it. He stops, for a bare moment next to Takamaki's desk, and glances down at her. She gives him a confused look. "What?" She whispers.

"Take a seat, Kurusu-kun," Kawakami calls. He steps past the desk and sits down.

Two girls a row over bring their heads together. "Did you see that? Do you think they know each other?"

"Maybe they're dating?"

"If that's true, then she's cheating on him with Mister Kamoshida!"

Akira stiffens at this. Takamaki visibly shakes as well, but both remain silent. Akira stares at the back of her head. He needs to speak with her and find out just what the hell is going on.

#

School does not go well. During the last period, a teacher asks Akira a question about Plato and logic. Akira does not know the answer, and as the teacher admonishes him, the rumor-loving students erupt in a flurry of gossip.

"He's a delinquent after all. No wonder he got it wrong."

"Of course he wouldn't know. I bet those glasses are just for show."

"Man, he's going to do so bad on the test."

He ignores these as best he can, and when the last bell rings, he shoots out of his chair. Takamaki is making a beeline for the door, and Akira has every intention on asking her what she knows about the castle. Kawakami enters the room and blocks his path. She beckons and he follows her out into the hall. He sees a blonde flash as Takamaki turns down the stairwell further down the hall.

"So, here's the deal," Kawakami says. "Tomorrow, I want you here, first thing in the morning. There's someone I want you to meet. I think she'll be a good influence on you. Not like…" It is only then that she notices Ryuji sauntering his way down the hall. "Speak of the devil. I assume your homeroom teacher gave you a talking to about being late this morning?"

Ryuji sighs and stares at the ground. "Yeah." He glances at Akira and whispers, "Meet you on the roof," before he turns and stalks away.

"So," Kawakami says, having not heard Ryuji's words. "I can count on you being here tomorrow morning, yes?"

Akira keeps his eyes on the ground, nods and says, "Yes, ma'am."

"You can just call me Kawakami-sensei," she says. "I'm not old enough to be a ma'am yet."

"Of course," Akira says, eyes still on the ground. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kawakami-sensei."

He spins and walks as fast as he dares to the stairwell. A number of eyes follow him as he ascends. He knows he needs to talk with Ryuji, but part of him just wants to get out of Shujin and go home. He arrives on the third floor, and continues up. He finds a double door leading to the roof, and peeks through the door's window to see Ryuji, alone, perched on a discarded chair. He opens the door and steps outside.

Ryuji stands as he approaches. "Hey. Glad you could make it." He wears a faint smile on his face. "I'm guessing Kawakami gave you a pretty big warning about staying away from me, huh?"

"This afternoon, yeah. She said you’re a pretty big troublemaker."

"Yeah, well, a lot of people think that." He leans back on the roof's large A/C unit and says, "Anyway, we should probably talk about that castle." Akira nods. "So, I saw Kamoshida today, and he didn't even blink at me. Like, he didn't remember what happened over there at all."

Akira reaches his hands up to rub his eyes, but his fingers brush against the lenses of his glasses. "Yeah," he says. "That Takamaki girl we saw-"

"Ann?"

"Yeah, her. She's in my class. She didn't say anything either."

"When those guards were dragging us to that courtyard, we passed a bunch of cells filled with people," Ryuji says. "I recognized some of them. They're students here! I saw a couple today, but it's the same story. No one remembers anything. Dude, what the hell is going on?"

Akira shakes his head. "I have no idea."

"I mean, we weren't tripping on anything, right? I don't do drugs or anything, but it's the only explanation."

"Not to mention that cat thing."

"Yeah! What was up with that? Morgana, I think it said its name was. And hell, while we're on the subject of weird shit, what about you? I mean, your clothes changed into that badass coat, you summoned some kind of giant demon thing and you moved really fast and kicked some serious ass!"

They look at each other for a few moments, but neither of them have an answer. Finally, Akira cracks a smile. "Maybe we really were high."

"This would make one hell of an anti-drug ad." He chuckles and crosses his arms. "But. Even if that was all some weird shared dream or hallucination, it doesn't change the fact that you saved me in there." He holds out his hand once more. "So, thanks Akira. I owe you one."

Akira smiles and shakes it, but his grin fades when Ryuji’s face falls. "What's wrong?"

"Shit man, I don't know how to tell you this, but..." Ryuji reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "I looked up your name. I was just curious, yeah? But I found all this crazy shit about you online."

"What kind of crazy shit?"

Ryuji frowns and no longer meets his eyes. Instead, he just hands Akira his phone. Akira scans through the site's information. It's all there. The arrest. The trial. The verdict. _This is why everyone was freaked out about me._ "But this is supposed to be sealed! I'm a minor!"

"Someone leaked it," Ryuji says. "And I bet I know who did it."

"Who?"

"Kamoshida, of course."

Akira isn't sure what to make of that. "But why would he do that?"

Ryuji shrugs. "He doesn't want you here, he doesn't like you, he just likes to have control over everything, take your pick. But I'd bet a hundred thousand yen it's him that did this."

Akira's hands shake as he hands the phone back to Ryuji. "A teacher...would really do that?"

"Dude, you saw Kamoshida in that castle! The guy was about to do a lot worse to us than just leak our shit online. And, honestly..." Ryuji's voice lowers a bit. "He did the same to me last year."

"Wait, seriously?"

Ryuji yawns and straightens. "Yeah, but that's a story for another time. All I'm saying is, if you were looking to keep a low profile, he's not going to let you. But," and his grin returns, "I think you and I will get along just fine as troublemakers." He sets out towards the roof's door. "I'll catch you later, Akira." Then he's out the door, and gone.

"See ya, Ryuji," Akira says.

He stands on the roof for a bit longer, and enjoys the solitude and silence. With someone like Ryuji around, maybe things won't be so bad. He leaves.

#

That night, he collapses into his bed, fresh from a Sojiro scolding. The school had called him, and informed him of Akira's extended absence. While his guardian hadn't asked very many questions, he'd made his stance clear. This one slip up was all that Akira was allocated. Any more messes or problems, and he'd be out on the street.

Akira had not offered any excuse. What could he have said? His thoughts drift back to the castle, Kamoshida, Morgana and Arsene. _What is..._ But he drifts into sleep before he can finish the thought.

Moments of blissful rest. Then the sound of chains, and a low moan. Akira's eyes open, and he finds himself in the destitute cell. "Oh, no." His head turns and he looks past the bars to the figure sitting behind the familiar rotting desk.

"Trickster," Igor says, his voice a low rumble. "Welcome back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for reading. I appreciate every comment I've gotten. Stay tuned!


	6. A Decision Made

Makoto's eyelids are heavy. Kawakami-sensei is speaking to her, but nothing sticks. Her duties as Student Council President are ramping up. A number of club budgets need balancing. There's still undone prep for tomorrow's volleyball rally. Exam proctoring.

It is not something she can't handle. Yes, it is _a lot_ when combined with her usual studies and college groundwork. Not to mention her sister's recent sour attitude.

However, none of this is why she barely slept last night. She spent too much time thinking about Akira Kurusu. She knows someone leaked his information online. Everyone was talking about it yesterday, but she’s resisted the temptation to look. Kawakami’s assurances had set her at ease, but then she’d heard he'd arrived _five hours_ late, in the company of Ryuji Sakamoto.

And that they had scaled a wall in the courtyard.

Doubt infects her. What if the rumors are true? Is he dangerous? Violent? Unhinged? Homicidal? She imagines him, all buff and jagged lines, covered in tattoos, a murderous glint in his eyes. His voice is loud and obscene, his curses spit like saliva. Perhaps he _is_ a former member of the yakuza. They've been known to accept adolescents. How did he get out? _Had_ he gotten out? Was he missing a section of his pinky finger? If so, what had he done to deserve its removal? Was he a drug user? A drug pusher? An enforcer? She imagined, and imagines still, a stooped young man, stalking his way down the halls of Shujin, the students scattering at the sound of his approach. His eyes, dark and maniacal, are enough to scare away even the toughest potential challengers. And she imagined, and imagines still, herself, standing defiant in the face of impending conflict and-

"Niijima-san, are you listening to me?"

Makoto blinks, blushes and says, "I'm sorry, Kawakami-sensei. I know it's no excuse, but I didn't get much sleep last night."

Kawakami snorts. "Oh, believe me. It's an excuse." Then her lips become a tight line and she quickly says, "Anyway, I'm glad you decided to do this. He should be here any minute, hopefully."

Makoto nods and clears her mind of the delusions and fantasies. "I look forward to meeting him." _That's right. Keep it together. All I have to do is show him around the school. That'll be easy. Then I can get back to what's really important_.

She doesn't have time for idle speculation. Even if it is kind of fun. It's ridiculous that she allowed herself to indulge like that until the early morning. That isn't who she is. Still exhausted, she steels herself and continues to wait.

The door to the faculty office slides open and both women turn toward the noise. A tall, lean, dark haired student steps inside.

Kawakami rises from her chair. "Kurusu-kun. It's nice to see you fit us into your busy schedule."

The boy frowns and approaches. "Yes, Kawakami-sensei," he replies.

Makoto's brain is firing. _Wait, this is Akira Kurusu? But he's just..._

Kawakami's voice from yesterday fills in the blank.

_Cute_.

Her throat goes dry. She becomes uncomfortably aware of her pulse. This is nonsense. Her brain begins to reason with itself. _Sleep deprivation. Dehydration._ She did not get the opportunity to eat a balanced meal this morning. She is, simply put, off her game. She orders her mind to cut it out, but it is too busy assessing the young man in front of her, and comparing it to the version she'd concocted last night. _Calm, collected, handsome, quiet, a little confident, handsome._ Wait, what are these observations based on? He's only said two words! He stepped into the office all of five seconds ago.

"No more train delays?" Kawakami-sensei asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Kurusu sighs, and reaches towards his face with his hands. His fingers collide with the lenses of his glasses and he frowns. He removes them and rubs his eyes. "There were, but I left early so I could get here on time."

"How considerate of you," his homeroom teacher replies.

Akira Kurusu regards the both of them without his glasses.

_Oh_. Makoto thinks when he fixes her with his dark eyes. _He looks better with them off_.

"This," Kawakami-sensei says, and gestures to Makoto. "Is Makoto Niijima, Shujin Academy's Student Council President."

Makoto regains enough of herself to say, "It's very nice to meet you, Kurusu-kun." She does not stutter, and her voice does not squeak.

Akira Kurusu replaces the glasses on his face, and inclines his head. "And you, Niijima-senpai."

"Now then," Kawakami says, bringing her hands together in a single, loud clap. "I've asked Niijima-san here to tutor you, as-"

Makoto's heart lurches up to her throat. "Wait, what?"

Kawakami glances over at her, brows furrowed. Makoto gulps. She actually gulps. Such an outburst is unbecoming for her. And in front of a teacher?

"Is that going to be a problem?" Kawakami asks. "I told you I wanted someone to help him adjust to life here, and a strong academic performance would go a long way towards that. As you've taken his courses already, I thought you would be the best person for this job."

Makoto keeps the scowl from her face. _Like I don't have enough to do?_ She breathes in, breathes out. Breathes in, breathes out. She pushes her emotion down, captures her composure. Kurusu, for his part, looks indifferent. _Relax. Relax. Another responsibility won't kill me. Kawakami-sensei is right. I am the best person for this job. I'm just tired and flustered._ She turns to Kurusu and tries not to let her eyes linger on his face. It is a very _nice_ face. "I am truly sorry for my outburst just now. Please accept my apology." She bows her head, just a bit. "I'd be happy to tutor you, Kurusu-kun."

His smile is polite, but lacks warmth. It is rehearsed, and Makoto knows this because she sees the same smile on the face of her sister nearly every day. "Thank you, Niijima-senpai."

She needs to take back control. She will not allow any compromise. "We'll meet in the library after school today. Please bring your notes and textbooks."

Kurusu hesitates for only a moment, before he nods and says, "Alright. I'll see you there."

Kawakami, evidently pleased with herself, wears a wide and proud grin. "There we go! See? Look at me, facilitating healthy relationships between my students." Makoto cringes at the word 'relationship,' but Kurusu doesn't seem to be bothered, so she doesn't let it show. "Alright, it's almost time for class. Kurusu-kun, you'll be coming with me. Niijima-san, thank you for your assistance in this." She stands and heads for the door, and Akira Kurusu gives Makoto a single, solid nod, before he follows her.

Makoto watches the two of them and mumbles an, "Of course," before she herself starts to leave.

#

Akira stares out the window as the morning's lecture drones on. _Makoto Niijima, huh?_ Perhaps he misjudged Kawakami. Maybe she really did want to see him do well.

Plus, having the Student Council President around couldn't possibly hurt his standing any. The rumors about him have only intensified today. He is now either a former yakuza member, or an undercover yakuza member.

He's not going to hold his breath though. When Kawakami had asked Niijima to tutor him, she had seemed upset by the prospect. She had, actually, seemed flustered throughout the whole meeting.

_She probably heard the rumors. She at least must've looked me up online_.

Fine.

If that's how it is, that's how it is.

_Just another pretty face_. He thinks this, but admits to himself that, really, Niijima-san's is a very _pretty_ face.

Yet, something nags at him. He doesn't know why, but he can't help thinking that he's seen her somewhere before.

#

Lunchtime arrives, and Ryuji struts into the classroom. The students turn their attention to him, and a fresh batch of whispers begins to bounce around the class. Ryuji ignores all this, and plops down in the empty seat alongside Akira. "Yo," he says, and leans in.

"Hey," Akira replies. _The rumor mill is going to go nuts_. Let it. "So..."

"Yeah." Ryuji leans in, and his voice drops to a whisper. "That thing yesterday? Wasn't a dream, right?" Akira nods. "Look, I don't know about you, but I need to know what's going on. Kamoshida, all the volleyball players we saw over there? None of them remember anything. Have you talked with Ann?"

"Not yet," Akira says. "But she hasn't said anything to me either." He glances at the other students. "And there's something else."

"Yeah?" Ryuji is expectant, listening.

"I've been having these dreams, ever since I got to Tokyo. At first I thought they were just weird nightmares. Now, I don't know." He takes a few moments to describe to Ryuji the contents of those strange visions.

"Whoa," Ryuji says. "That _is_ creepy. But, do you, like, think it has something to do with all this? I mean, I'm not a dream-analyzing-guy myself, but you _do_ have a record. Couldn't it just have to do with all of that?"

"That’s just it. I thought so too. But last night, I had another dream. I was in the Velvet Room, and Igor congratulated me on awakening my Persona."

"But didn't that cat thing call it a Persona? Couldn’t it have just come from that?"

"Yeah, but come on. Given how crazy things were yesterday, it wouldn't surprise me that this stuff in my dreams is real too."

Ryuji shrugs in surrender. "Alright, I guess that’s a good point."

The door slides open and Ann Takamaki walks in. Her eyes are downcast, but when she sees Ryuji seated next to Akira, a fire returns to them. She marches up to the two boys and asks, "What're you doing here, Ryuji? This isn't your class."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know that." He inclines his head towards Akira. "I was just chattin’ with this guy."

She crosses her arms and frowns. "Don't you think it's time you got lost already?"

"Real nice, Takamaki," Ryuji says, standing. "By the way, have any plans on going back to the castle today?"

Akira's mouth is suddenly dry. He had wanted to ask Takamaki about her presence in Kamoshida's warped castle, but hadn't had the opportunity. He would have been a bit more subtle than outright asking her, though.

Ann's brows furrow. "Huh? What the heck are you talking about?"

"Sure was considerate of you, to just sit there while we were about to be executed."

She sighs. "I have no idea what kind of game you two idiots are playing, but keep me out of it."

Ryuji and Akira glance at each other. Both can tell what the other is thinking. _She doesn't remember either._

"Fine, eff this. I'm going." Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk off. Then he stops and turns back to Akira. "Meet me at the front gate after school, dude. We'll get to the bottom of this." He cracks a grin, and Akira can't help but return it.

"Sure," he says. Then Ryuji saunters out of the room and shuts the classroom door.

#

Akira meets Ryuji at Shujin’s front gate. Students in the area scatter when they see the two together. Ryuji doesn't notice this either. Akira wonders if it's because of poor observational skills, or because he can't be bothered to care.

"So, I was thinking," Ryuji says as Akira walks up to him. "You know how Kamoshida and Takamaki don't remember us at all from the castle?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what if that weirdo wearing the speedo wasn't the real Kamoshida?"

"I don't follow."

"What if it was, like, a doppler, or something?"

"A doppler?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah. You know. Like something that looks like someone else, but isn't?"

"Oh," Akira says, and snaps his fingers a few times before he remembers the term. "You mean a doppelganger?"

"Yeah, that's it!"

Akira considers this for a few moments, then nods. "Makes sense."

"Wait, for real?"

"Sure. You said it yourself, you’ve seen Kamoshida since our time in the castle. He didn’t say anything."

Ryuji leans back against the school's gate. "But what's it all mean? Like, what was that castle?"

"Well, if it's not the real Kamoshida, and those people he had in there weren't real students, does it really matter?"

Ryuji fixes him with a glare, and Akira blinks in surprise. "Of course it does!" The blonde boy shouts. "Think about it. He was torturing all those guys, and doing... all that stuff, with those girls. What if what he's doing over there is just a bigger version of what he's doing over here?"

Akira mulls this over. "You think he actually _is_ hurting people, over here?"

Ryuji glances around, and in a lower voice, whispers, "I know he hurts people. I see a lot of guys on the volleyball team with bruises and slings. And sometimes I see the girls looking like that too."

Something goes cold inside Akira. Someone has flipped a switch, and the whirling fragments that compose his mind shut themselves up, and all he has left is a single, all-encompassing, solidified thought. _If what Ryuji is saying is true, we have to do something_. It is not a question for him. He remembers Arsene's challenge, and he remembers his response.

"You okay, dude?" Ryuji asks. "You went still all of a sudden."

Akira looks Ryuji in the eye, and says, "You want to go back there, don't you?"

His friend's frown turns into a grin, and his eyes light up. "Hell yeah, man! You in?"

"I'm in."

#

_Tap. Tap. Tap_.

Makoto's pencil is sharpened to a fine point, and the lead tip collides with the paper in a rhythmic, slow and consistent beat. She sits in the library. Second-year textbooks, which she borrowed from teachers, lay open before her in a neat little row.

She sits in the library, alone at a round table.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_.

There are other students in the library. Some sit by themselves, and some in small groups of two to three, hunched over their own desks and tables. All of them cast worried glances in Makoto's direction.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_.

Makoto prides herself on her stoicism. Even in distasteful situations, she is able to maintain a look of collected decorum on her face and in her posture. As she is a regular at the library, it is familiar to the students that frequent it.

But today, Makoto's brows are just a bit furrowed.

Today, her lips are squeezed together in a tight, white line.

Today, her pencil is tapping out a slow, angry code onto a blank piece of paper.

Today, Akira Kurusu is late.

Today, Akira Kurusu has stood her up.

One of the students at another table, a second-year, leans over to his friend and whispers in the lowest voice he can muster, "Man, the Prez is _pissed_!"

_Tap. Tap. Tap_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Somewhat short, but for length and tone purposes, this day had to be split in two. That chapter will be up on Monday, and its tentative title is, 'The Captain's Call,' so take a guess as to what happens. Thank you for reading!


	7. The Captain's Call

Akira slides into the shadow of a stationary suit of armor. The guard lurches past, its steps slow and plodding, its own armor shuddering as it moves. It reaches the end of the hall, turns and marches out of sight.

"Ryuji," Akira whispers.

He pops out from behind a planter several yards back. "Close one."

Akira nods and motions for him to follow. They slink down the crimson carpeted hall, lined on both sides by silent sentries of empty armor.

They reach the corridor's end and it splits into two directions. "Which way?" Ryuji asks.

"How about neither?" Comes a voice, from above. A ball of black flashes down and slams into Ryuji's stomach. He is flung back, and crashes with a moan onto the carpet.

Akira brings up his knife, but it is only Morgana. The cat looks from one to the other. "What are you two bozos doing here?"

Akira goes to Ryuji's side and asks, "You okay?"

"Freakin' cat," Ryuji groans. "Help me up."

Akira takes his arm and as he pulls him up says to Morgana, "We came back."

"I see that!" The cat is hopping from one hind leg to the other, his arms flapping wildly in the air. "I want to know why!"

"We've got business," Ryuji says, belting his words out in-between air-starved gasps. "With the King."

Morgana puts his bulbous head in his forepaws and says, "No. No. No. No." His following groan is long and exasperated. "Are you telling me that you _didn't_ figure out the Kamoshida in here isn't the same as the one in your world?"

"N-no!" Ryuji says. "We totally figured that out."

"Then why are you here?"

Akira pats Ryuji on the back and adjusts his gloves. He explains their rough sketch of a plan.

Morgana takes it in and replies, "Leave. Now."

Ryuji shakes his head. "No way!"

"Your plan stinks," Morgana says. "You already know people who are getting abused in the real world. Go back, and get them to confess."

"There's more than just Takamaki and a few guys on the volleyball team. Everyone he's hurting deserves a shot at taking the bastard down!"

"The people you see in here aren't real, they're just Kamoshida's cognitive interpretation of them. But _you_ are real. _You_ can get hurt. _You_ can die in here. And if _you_ die, in here _you_ won't be able to help _anyone_ out there." Morgana blinks. "Wait, how _did_ you guys get back here?"

Ryuji prods his thumb towards Akira. "This guy had an app on his phone."

"An app? What's that?"

"Pssh," Ryuji says, then looks at Akira. "And this guy says he's human."

"I _am_ a human!"

"Then why don’t you know what an app is? More importantly, why do you look like a cat?"

"I-" Morgana starts, then frowns. His eyes cast themselves towards the floor. "I don't remember."

"For real?"

"Yes, 'for real!'" Morgana says. "I don't remember why I look this way. I don't remember how I got here. Happy now?"

Akira kneels next to Morgana. "You have amnesia?"

Morgana folds his paws across his chest and glowers. "So what if I do?"

"I'm sorry. That sucks."

Morgana blinks, averts his gaze, and kicks at the carpet with one of his hind paws. "Yeah, well, I'm going to get my memories back. Guaranteed!" He looks up at the two, regards them differently. "You two aren't leaving, huh?"

"Not until we've memorized the face of everyone Kamoshida's abusing," Ryuji says.

Akira just shakes his head.

Morgana smirks a bit. "Alright then. I'll lead you to them." When the two boys open their mouths, he holds up a paw. "But! You will do what I say, when I say it! Consider my word law!"

Akira straightens and Ryuji walks up to him. "Hey, do you trust this thing?"

Akira shrugs. "I think we can. He helped us out last time."

"But what if, he's like, trying to trick us?"

Morgana frowns. "You know I can hear you, right? Do you want my help or not?"

Akira looks at Ryuji. The latter sighs and nods. "My name's Akira Kurusu," he says. "And this is Ryuji Sakamoto."

"Wow! Great! That's so awesome! Can we go now, please? We've been standing in this hall for ten minutes. I'm surprised we haven't been caught and executed yet."

#

"Can't we hurry this up?" Ryuji asks, as they descend a familiar stairwell. "We've been at this for, like, an hour."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Morgana replies, from up ahead, where he peers down from a landing. "I didn't realize this was keeping you from something important. If you'd like, we can just go sprinting down the halls. I'm sure _no one_ will notice that."

"Freakin' cat," Ryuji replies.

The slow pace of their infiltration grates Akira as well, but Morgana's sneaky antics and commands have kept them from the sight of Shadows. He may wield a knife, have some dope-ass clothes, and be able to summon Arsene, but he'd rather avoid confrontation. It is not fear, but logic. He does not know what he can do yet. Here, in the Metaverse - as Morgana calls it - he's confident in himself, but he was confident justice would prevail in his trial as well.

It's best to stay safe.

They smell the fruity fetor of rot before they find the dungeon, the odor a declaration of their impending arrival.

The stones are slick with mildew and mold. The air is thick, stagnant, and sick. The place is filled with the broken moans of its prisoners.

In his dumbstruck state yesterday, Akira had been unable to fully grasp the realities of the dungeon. It is worse than thought. The prisoners languish in their cells, eyes vacant, bodies ornamented in hideous cuts and grotesque bruises. He knows they are not real people. That they are - in a way - figments of Kamoshida's imagination. This does not stop the slick churning of fear in his gut.

One boy has a deep, yellow gash along his forehead. Blood covers his face in a sheet.

Another's arm is bent in several places - all wrong angles - but his pale voice mutters out eulogies to Kamoshida.

Morgana's eyes are wide. "This is awful. I didn't think it would be this bad. For the distortions to have suffered this level of abuse, it must be pretty significant in the real world."

Ryuji grips the bars of one cell. Akira walks up behind and stares over his shoulder. The boy inside is motionless on the ground. His right foot has been crushed flat. His head has swelled to almost twice its usual size, the beady little eyes whirling around inside that protuberant thing, white and mad.

"This is how he sees us," Ryuji whispers.

Akira reaches out a hand and rests it on his shoulder. "We'll get him for this."

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "Yeah." He sets himself to memorizing the faces.

#

It does not take them long to find where Kamoshida keeps the girls. Above the dungeons exists a set of opulent doors adorned in a series of golden fleur-de-lis. Neon pink letter hang above the doors. ‘HALL OF PLEASURE.’

Neither Akira nor Ryuji hesitates to shove them open.

“Not so loud!” Morgana cries, as they swing inward with an aching _creak_.

The girls lay on the ground. Their wrists and necks are manacled, with enough give to the chains to allow for movement. They writhe in what looks like a cross between agony and ecstasy, their faces contorted into a terrible mix of adoration, fear, and exertion. They touch themselves.

Most are clad in nothing but bras and panties, but a scant number wear more elaborate designs. One wears the ivory shirt of Shujin, the front tied in a knot exposing her midriff. Her skirt is pathetically short and hiked up. Another is dressed in black-laced lingerie, tight and form fitting.

One is naked, and still upon the tiled floor.

In the center of the room is a bed. It is a tacky thing, pink and shaped like a heart, the kind of thing one might find in a love hotel. Upon it, sits Kamoshida, dressed in his cape, crown and speedo.

Ann Takamaki dances before him. She wears a matching set of pink underwear. Her movements are slow and sensuous. Her hands explore herself, and travel everywhere. She wears a loose smile on her face. Her eyes are dimmed. There is nothing behind them.

The grin on Kamoshida's face is wide, and he extends a hand out to her.

Akira doesn't notice Ryuji’s movement until too late. He opens his mouth to call out, but Ryuji is halfway across the room, and screaming.

"DON'T TOUCH HER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

The girls’ exclamations cease. Kamoshida's hand continues, but instead of a caress, he shoves Takamaki aside. She hits the floor with a girlish little squeak, and Kamoshida stands. His grin is not diminished.

"There you are, Sakamoto."

Pools of oozing black appear on the floor, pulse, and morph into guard shadows.

"Ryuji!" Akira shouts. He darts forward.

"Stop!" Morgana cries.

The shadows convulse and burst, their armor sloughing off as monsters take their place. Burnt stallions rear up, their skin laced with sickly green veins, their manes white as bone, their eyes bloodshot and bloated.

Akira halts his charge as Kamoshida commands, "Take those thieves, but leave Sakamoto to me."

"Idiot!" Morgana screams and throws himself forward, a falchion suddenly gripped in his paws. He bears down on one of the beasts. "Stand back and watch-" His voice turns into a painful mewl as another of the creatures darts forward and snatches him out of the air. The thing shakes its head in a terrible and rapid back-and-forths, and throws Morgana onto the floor. It raises one cloven hoof and brings it down onto the cat's back, pinning him to the floor.

"Arse-" Akira begins, but one monster has loped behind him, and the thing strikes out with its hind legs, sending a pulverizing blow into Akira's back. He screams and drops. His knife clatters to the tiles and slides away. His attacker sprawls itself across him. The pressure breaks something, and Akira can taste blood in his mouth.

Ryuji watches his unfold. _This is my fault_. If he'd kept calm, if he hadn't charged in here, this wouldn't be happening. He knows _that_ Takamaki isn't the real one, so why? Why had he only seen red when Kamoshida had been about to touch her?

Kamoshida is rapt. "Thank you for leading them here, Sakamoto," he says, without taking his eyes from his captives. "You know, despite your hatred for me, you keep helping me out the most."

"I didn't..." Ryuji moans, and looks past him at Ann, who rubs her behind like a cartoon character. "Takamaki..."

Kamoshida looks at the girl. "Hm? Oh. Now I see." He walks over to her, seizes her by the hair and hauls her to her feet. "You're pathetic, Sakamoto. Did you seriously think a woman like this would ever go for a punk like you?" He raises his free hand into the air, an orator to his masses, and calls, "How about it, ladies? Why don't you tell Sakamoto just what you think of him?"

Ann, still dangling in the king's grip, fixes Ryuji with a sadistic grin. "Ryuji is _such_ a loser. His dumb blonde hair just makes him look like a poser. He thinks everyone's afraid of him, but the truth is that everyone just thinks he's pathetic."

Ryuji cannot look at this. He cannot hear this. He turns, but the other girls have dragged themselves and their chains forward until they ring him like carrion birds.

"I can't stand to look at him!"

"He thinks he's a badass, but he's just a sniveling little wimp!"

"I suppose he's good for something though. If he hadn't attacked King Kamoshida, our majesty wouldn't be as powerful as he is today."

Ryuji sinks to his knees. He raises his arms about his head, and shuts his eyes. "That's not what I..."

The girl in the schoolgirl outfit leans over him, and puts her hands on his shoulders in an almost tender touch. "No one loves you, Ryuji. No one wants you. You're stupid. You've got no friends. And ever since you broke your leg, you've got no prospects. You're never going to be a success like King Kamoshida."

Ryuji's words are a whimper. "I didn't break my leg. Kamoshida broke it."

"In self-defense," the girl in lingerie says. She crawls towards him, the manacle around her throat constricting, and lays a hand on his thigh. "That's what we all believe. And we all believe it because King Kamoshida told us. He's so powerful and righteous. We'll always believe him over a piece of shit like you."

"Stop it."

"Loser!"

"Creep!"

"Punk!"

"Asshole!"

"Piece of shit!"

"STOP IT!"

Kamoshida enters the circle, the girls reaching out to him as he passes, and grins down at Ryuji. "Face it, Sakamoto. You're useless. You're nothing. You couldn't protect the track team. You couldn't protect your mother." He nods towards the prone bodies of Akira and Morgana. "You can't even protect those two. You can't do anything."

He slumps forward. His forehead collides with the cold floor. "Dammit," he whispers. "Why? Why can't I ever do anything?"

"Ryuji..." The voice is weak and wet, but cuts through the din.

He looks to Akira. A thin trickle of red bubbles from the corner of his mouth. His eyes, from behind the mask, plead. "Akira?"

" _Help_."

Something snaps inside him. He shoots to his feet, and shoves the girls away from him. This isn't the time to feel sorry for himself. People need him. He feints in one direction, then starts to bolt around the other side of Kamoshida. "GET OFF THEM, YOU-"

Kamoshida's backhand hits like a hammer. It cracks into the side of Ryuji's skull. For an eternal moment, he is weightless and off the ground, then he crashes into a heap on the floor.

"Didn't I just tell you?" Kamoshida shouts. "You're nothing but a delinquent! A loser! You should know your place!"

"My place?" Ryuji rights himself and takes a knee. Blood leaks down the side of his head. It stains his hair. "I'LL SHOW YOU MY PLACE, ASSHOLE!"

"They're not wrong, you know." The voice cuts into his mind like a scalpel. A scream escapes him, but he can see, just beyond Kamoshida, perched on the king's bed, himself. Flames wrap him in a cerulean aura. His eyes burn gold. "I mean, you're exactly what they say you are." The figure stands upright, hops off the bed, and struts towards Ryuji, a mad grin on his face.

Ryuji tries to watch, but the pain burrows deeper into his skull, and he shudders to the floor, howls pouring from him.

"But then again," Ryuji's double says, "is that such a bad thing? The delinquent? The punk? The troublemaker? There's power in those labels." It spreads its hands in a shrug, and flame crackle into the air. "So, if your name's been tarnished already, why not hoise the black flag of it and raise some real hell?"

Teeth chew his brain. Ryuji is curled into a ball.

"No more posturing, no more slinking in the shadows. You want to be the troublemaker? Then make some damn trouble!"

When Ryuji speaks, his word is the groan of the damned. "Everything..." His hands splay themselves on the tile, he pushes himself up. Kamoshida stares. "Everything I had, you took away." Tears shunt from his eyes. He must've bit his lip or tongue, because he tastes the metallic tint of blood in his mouth. "So I'm..." he stands, hands clenched, "GONNA TAKE EVERYTHING OF YOURS!"

"Very good," the burning figure declares. It vanishes and a gun metal mask in the shape of a skull bursts onto Ryuji's face. "This is a contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Steer yourself towards your purpose, never wavering, AND LET YOUR FLAG DARKEN THE SKIES OF THE UNJUST!"

Ryuji's shriek as he rips the mask off is raw and ragged. His skin tears and snakes of blood slither through the air and dash upon the tile.

Flames erupt into the air and twist into the hull of a sable, mast-less galley, a knife-lik grin slathered in paint upon the bow. Astride the vessel stands a tattered, red-caped skeleton. A black, jolly-roger cap adorns its bleached head, twin sabers cut beneath its chin in mock of a collar. From the cuff of one arm, a polished gold cannon extrudes.

Ryuji stands beneath it, his Shujin uniform gone. In its place he wears a spike-studded biker kutte, a blood-red scarf, and thin yellow gloves.

The ship cuts through the air, a hollow afterimage trails it. Solid, it slams its hull into the creatures astride Morgana and Akira. The red-eyed monsters rear with horrified neighs, collapse backwards and fling their legs about in a mad attempt to find purchase.

Morgana crawls to Akira's side and whimpers, "Dia." A sea green glow appears above and then floats down and into the boy's body. Akira can feel his wounds staunching, his bones mending, he feels the blood flow where it needs to, and feels his energy return.

He straightens his repaired limbs and crouches next to Morgana, who performs the same healing spell on himself. "What's going on?" He asks.

Morgana perks up and hops to his feet. "What'd you think, genius? Ryuji's got a Persona!"

The two dart to his side. "Ryuji?" Akira asks.

His friend's eyes open, clear and energized. "Yo!" His smile is brilliant. He takes in his outfit, and an apocalyptic lead pipe materializes and lays heavy in his hands. "Holy shit, this effing rocks!" The pirate ship and its skeletal sailor halts above him. "Whatddup, Persona?"

Morgana smirks. "Looks like you're not so useless after all."

"Can it, cat," Ryuji counters, but his grin remains in place.

Kamoshida backs away. "What the hell? This one too? Guards! Guards!" Pools of black congeal where he steps, and swell into his armored servitors. One, adorned in gold, convulses in a violent spasm, and bursts. The resulting eruption of black pus swirls and reforms.

A gargantuan samurai, its armor a dull maroon, its eyes white slits of malice, sits astride a white, wild steed. In its gauntleted hand, it grasps a ugly spear of jagged metal and splinter. It yanks the reins, and its stallion lifts itself into the air, its forelegs pumping.

"Careful," Morgana says. "That one looks powerful."

Akira snatches his knife off the floor as Ryuji smirks and says, "Doesn't look so tough. Besides, I'm in the mood for some serious ass kicking, how about you?"

Akira returns the smile. "Of course."

The samurai hunches forward, digs its booted heels into the horse's sides, and charges, its spear held low. "In that case," Ryuji says, and with a swing of his arm, points at the approaching enemy, "Blow em away, CAPTAIN KIDD!"

The Captain's arm extends. There is crackle around the muzzle of the cannon. The air smells burnt. An eruption of electricity echoes through the hall, and a violent concentration of current hurtles through the air and crashes into the samurai. Rider and ridden screech in pain, as bolts course about them. Smoke begins to escape from the spaces in the samurai's armor. It collapses to the ground, and in a hiss, evaporates into ash.

Ryuji drives one fist into his palm and looks out upon the King and his minions. "Who's next?" He asks.

#

The three halt upon the drawbridge. Their sky is a black marble expanse, moonless, and looks down at the thieves as they catch their breath.

"I still say," Ryuji says, then pauses to swallow more air. "We should've wasted Kamoshida."

"Bad idea," Morgana replies. He is prone on the boards, facedown, his little body rising and falling as he breathes. "Akira and I were in bad shape. I managed to heal us, but if that fight had lasted any longer, we'd have been in a lot of trouble."

Akira claps Ryuji on the shoulder. "Tired?"

The youth is bent at the waist, hands on his knees. "Totally."

"We should get back."

"Def." He slides his mask up and taps his forehead. "Plus, I've got all the faces memorized. Tomorrow, when we get to school, we'll get em to confess, and take that bastard down."

Morgana clears his throat and turns his face to them. "That's great and all, but I hope you're ready to uphold your end of the deal."

"What deal?" Ryuji asks.

"The deal! The one where I lead you into the castle, and you help me out once we're done."

Ryuji regards Akira. "You remember saying anything like that?"

"Nope."

"Wh-what? Are you kidding me? You guys have to help me delve into Mementos and-"

Ryuji palms the air. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Morgana? I mean, we appreciate the help and all, but we never said we'd go 'delving' with you." He straightens and to Akira, says, “C’mon man, let’s get out of here.”

“Heyheyhey!” Morgana moans, still flat on the ground. “I _know_ you’re not thinking of ditching me! After all I did for you?”

Akira crouches by the prone cat. “We didn’t make a deal, Morgana. I don’t have a problem helping you, but we need to get back to our world now. We’ll come back.”

“You’re just saying that to get out of your commitment!”

“Dude, we never made a commitment!”

Ryuji taps Akira’s shoulder and the two bid farewell. They drag themselves down the drawbridge as Morgana calls after them, “You damn cheapskates!”

#

Ryuji sets down his chopsticks. "Okay,” he says. “It's tragic backstory time."

Akira looks up from his bowl. A series of noodles hang from his lips. "Hm?"

After their return, both had found themselves too wired to just go home. Ryuji suggested a ramen shop he’d been wanting to try. Akira had agreed.

"C'mon, man. I mean, I read all that stuff about you online too. But I don't buy for a second that you assaulted some dude. You're way too chill."

Akira stares. _Well, why not?_ He's yet to explain what really happened to anyone. Most know only the official lie. Akira's truth is unheard.

"It was a couple of months ago, back in my home town." He relates the story.

Once finished, Ryuji pounds his fist onto the table. "That asshole!" People turn and stare. Akira pats Ryuji's shoulder, pleadingly.

"Calm down."

"But, he seriously got the woman he was assaulting to testify against _you_?"

"Yeah. I couldn't believe it either." Akira sighs. "I kept waiting for someone to tell me it was all a joke, like I was on one of those weird hidden camera shows, you know? But I got arrested, put on trial, sent to juvy for a brief stint, and no one said anything."

"It's like that everywhere, huh?" Ryuji mumbles. "Some people think they can just walk over everyone else. It makes me so damn mad." He lets out a long sigh, and looks at his friend. "I'm real sorry that happened to you, dude."

Akira feels as if something has dislodged in his chest. His hands begin to shake. He takes the glasses from his face. Rubs his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Ryuji asks.

"Yeah," Akira replies. "It's just... you believe me."

"Well, duh. Of course I believe you, dude." Ryuji is wearing his now familiar grin. "We're friends, right?"

Akira smiles. He sets the glasses back on his face. "We are.”

Someone believes him.

Someone _believes_ him.

"So, what about you?" Akira asks.

"What'd you mean?"

"You said, 'tragic backstory time.' What was all that stuff in the castle with Kamoshida? I think you said, at one point, that he _broke_ your leg?"

Ryuji groans and drops his head. "Man, that whole thing." His brows furrow and he asks, "What exactly have you heard about me at school?"

"I mean, I've been there for two days. Most of what I've heard is about me, actually."

Ryuji smiles. "That makes sense. So, it's like this. I used to be on the school's track team. I wasn't a star or nothin', but I was pretty good. Everyone was. I still don't know why, but the school decided to hire Kamoshida as an assistant track coach, I guess because he was an old Olympic Medalist, and having him working for the school would help with its rep.

"Shit got bad, right off the bat. Kamoshida pulled some strings and got our head coach fired. Then, he started having us do these insane practices. I mean, I had no problem working hard, but these were crazy. No one, I don't care how tough they are, could've handled his training regimen. That's when I got suspicious. He kept saying that he really wanted to be a part of the volleyball team, and that we were just dead weight. At first, I thought it was just him blowing off steam.

"It wasn't though. The guy was nuts. Anyone who stood up to him was targeted."

Akira straightens. "And let me guess, you stood up to him."

Ryuji blushes and rubs the back of his head. "Not exactly. Not in a way that counted. When I started makin' noise, Kamoshida... He... Well, he started talking shit about my mom. I mean, that's a whole other story. I don't even know how he found out about that stuff, but he just kept repeating it to me, practice after practice, right in front of everyone! I tried to deal, I really did."

"That's horrible."

"It just got worse and worse. One day,” and he pauses. Takes a breath. “One day I couldn't take it anymore. He said the same old shit, and I lost it. I took a swing at him. The next thing you know, I'm on the ground, and my leg is broken."

"He really did break it?"

"Self-defense, which isn't even technically a lie. It's just that he provoked me. And like an idiot, I played right into his hands. That was all he needed to get the track team disbanded. He got to focus up on all his volleyball shit after that. He also made sure that everyone knew it was my fault the team got canned. Everyone thinks I'm some crazy-ass punk who just wanted to attack a teacher. They call me 'track traitor' and shit like that."

A smile suddenly spreads across Ryuji's face, and he leans back and sighs. "Anyway, that's my story. Not as bad as yours though."

"Are you kidding?" Akira asks. "A teacher broke your leg, harassed you nonstop, _and_ ruined your reputation."

"Yeah, but it's not like I've got a criminal record. I didn't have to go to court or nothing. Kamoshida made a big showing out of 'giving me a second chance,' that asshole."

The two boys sit in silence for a time, staring ahead.

"Hey, Akira?" Ryuji finally says.

"Yeah?"

"We're taking Kamoshida down, right?"

"Hell yeah."

#

Akira returns to LeBlanc and is greeted with a gruff, "I assume you went to school today?" Sojiro stands behind the bar, his face one of relaxed indifference, but his eyes alert and focused. Akira nods. "Well, keep it up then. I don't want to hear about you falling in with a bad crowd or being a routine ditcher, got it?"

"Yes, sir." He barely feels the condescension. Sojiro asks if he's hungry, but Akira tells him that he already ate as he trudges upstairs.

Once in his room, Akira collapses onto his cleared-off couch.

He feels as if he has forgotten something, but he can't remember what it is. Instead, his thought drift back to the castle. Specifically, the Hall of Pleasure. Something about the place tugs at his mind.

He cycles through the faces of the girls, one at a time. He stops when he gets to the girl in the lingerie. The one with the brown hair. The one with the eyes so bright they almost seem red.

Makoto Niijima. The Student Council President.

What he has forgotten returns. "Oh, shit," he says to the air. He was supposed to have met up with the Student Council President and study.

The fresh wave of panic is quick to subside.

_One missed study session isn't the end of the world._

Besides, he’s Shujin’s resident delinquent. She probably expected him not to show up. She probably hadn’t shown up herself.

Makoto Niijima. If she was present as a cognition inside Kamoshida’s castle, that meant he had designs upon her. Still, the sick man seemed – both times – more interested in Takamaki than anyone else. Perhaps that meant the Student Council president was safe, for now. It was more vital that they get to the currently abused students. They would be the ones to bring Kamoshida down.

Akira stands and his limbs are very heavy. Exhausted, he changes and gets into bed.

#

Chains. Moans. The stench rising from the cell’s toilet. Akira's eyes open and he knows he has returned to the Velvet Room. He sits up, and glances out the cell door to find Igor at his desk.

"Welcome back."

Akira drags himself and his chains to the cell door. He grips the cold iron bars and says, "I need to know what's going on."

There is a skittering in the dark behind Igor, an impression of movement. He swallows. The attendants. He recalls them well. He would rather not.

Igor ignores this. His head tilts in an birdlike fashion, quick and blinking. "I see you have made proper use of the Navigator."

"The what?" Akira asks. He thinks. "Wait, are you talking about the app on my phone? Are you the one who put it there?"

A phlegmy hiss bites out of the darkness, "YOUDONOTGETTOASKQUESTIONSINMATE"

The words rattle his teeth and Akira knows what is coming and he shuts his eyes as the spider-thing hurls itself from the dark. He retreats, cowers, feels the thing on the other side of the bars. Its breathing is slow and wet, and something drips from it and steams upon the stone floor. It smells like bile.

"Now, now, Caroline," Igor says, his voice soothing. "Such lack of manners is unbecoming."

Another voice echoes from above. "Return to the black, sister."

Akira senses the thing's retreat. Another presence takes its place. He keeps his eyes shut. He recalls the two, Caroline and Justine. Igor had called them attendants. In truth, they are nightmares. The latter's voice is as smooth as a song, but she is - in her own way - worse than the monstrosity that is Caroline.

A deep chuckle echoes from the spaces between Igor's teeth. "Perhaps dears, it would be easier on his nerves were you to be heard and not seen. Such is the frailty of the human mind."

"Very well," Justine says. "Open your eyes, inmate. You shall see only what you can comprehend."

He inches them open. He sees only Igor. The presence of the two terrors still floats like diseased air, but this is better, at least.

"I often mis-remember how the girls must be catalogued within the human mind. You have my _condolences_."

Akira stands. "Please, just tell me what's going on."

"You have stepped onto the path of your rehabilitation. You have summoned your Persona. You have formed a bond."

"A bond? Do you mean, Ryuji?"

Justine's voice echoes from nowhere and everywhere. "Such bonds will serve you well in the days to come. Cultivate them, lest you shall wither."

"REVERALSSPELLDEATHFORYOUINMATE"

Akira cringes at Caroline's onslaught. "But what does-"

Igor cuts him off. "Gather people to you, Trickster. These bonds will allow you the abilities of stronger and stronger Personas."

"Isn't my Persona, Arsene?"

"Were you of the understanding you could wear only one mask?"

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but the violent ring of an alarm is all that leaves him. He clutches his throat, but the rattling will not stop.

"It appears we are out of time. Farewell, but do not forget to consider the question posed to you." As Akira's vision fades, he sees Igor's smile grow. "How far are you willing to go for your rehabilitation?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, so that thing with Caroline and Justine was a last minute addition. I always found the attendants more annoying than engaging, so turning them into Lovecraftian horrors is just my way of making them more fun to write.
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for reading. I really do appreciate it, and I hope you continue to do so.


	8. How Things Work

4/13

The rally is a strange thing. From Akira’s perspective, it’s just Kamoshida and a few out of shape teachers pelting students with volleyballs. _Is this supposed to boost morale?_

He sits on the floor at the gym's edge, with Ryuji slumped alongside him. "Man," his friend says, yawning. "This is so boring."

The rally continues for several slow hours. One by one, classes are called to endure Kamoshida’s onslaught. It isn't pretty.

The only halt occurs when Kamoshida spikes one student, a boy named Mishima, in the face. The sick _slap_ of the synthetic leather echoes through the gym. Everyone straightens and panics, until Kamoshida ducks under the net and runs to his fallen pupil.

"Look at him," Ryuji says. "Acting like he gives a shit. I bet you he did that on purpose."

Two students help Mishima up, and head towards the nurse's office.

Ryuji gives Akira a light jab with his elbow. "Hey. This is our chance. Let's get out of here and see if we can find some of those guys from the castle."

"Right.”

#

It does not go well. To cover more ground, Ryuji and Akira split up. Neither gets anywhere. The majority of the students are too intimidated by the rumors around Akira to speak to him. The rest tell him to mind his business.

Ryuji suffers similar obstacles.

Dejected, Akira makes his way down to the inner courtyard, hoping to at least secure a vending machine soda.

Drink retrieved, he turns and finds himself face to face with Takamaki. Her hair is pristine, her make-up expertly applied. Her gym clothes only highlight her curves, and for a moment, Akira is taken aback by her close proximity. Then he dons his mask.

"Can I ask you something?" She asks.

"What?"

"What's your deal? Like, we both know the whole ‘sick on the first day’ thing was a lie."

Akira shrugs. "When I got closer to school, I started feeling pretty bad. I went back home."

"And then you came back in the afternoon? I don't buy that for a second."

"Hey!"

Ryuji stalks into the alcove, a scowl on his face. "What are you grillin’ him for?"

"What's it to you?"

"He's my friend."

"And how did that happen, exactly?"

"I can’t have friends?"

Ann sighs. "Look, I don't know what you're doing, but if you're trying to mess with Kamoshida, just stop. You're never going to get anywhere and no one's going to tell you anything."

Ryuji takes another step forward. "So, you know something's going on then."

Ann averts her eyes. "Just stop, okay?"

"What's he doing to you?" Akira asks.

Ann's brows rise. "Huh?"

"What's he doing to you?"

"Th-that's not..." Ann starts, but doesn't finish. Instead, she shouts, "Just drop it, okay? You guys can't do anything!"

"That's what you think," Ryuji says. "We're gonna bury that bastard. You can defend him all you want, but if you knew half the shit he was doing behind your back, you wouldn't."

Ann blinks. "Sakamoto, what'd you mean 'behind my back?'"

Ryuji clicks his tongue. "It's nothing. You wouldn't get it. C'mon, Akira." He starts to leave.

Akira begins to follow, then pauses and says to Ann, "You should stay away from him. He's a bad guy." Then he follows Ryuji out of the courtyard.

Ann stares after the two as they go.

Once out of earshot, Akira asks, "So, how do you two know each other?"

"Hm?" Ryuji straightens a bit. "Oh, we went to middle school together. I guess we were kind of friends. Then we just, y'know, drifted apart."

Akira nods. "So, what should we do now? I got nothing out of the students."

"Same with me. I've got one more idea, though. That kid, Mishima, the one Kamoshida hit in the face, let's see if we can get him to talk."

They make their way to the nurse's office, and hurry when an announcement comes that the rally has finished and everyone can go home, only to discover that Mishima has already left. They make a beeline for school’s entrance, and find the boy, hunched over, arms clutched around him as if that could protect him, bag slung across his shoulder, thick bandage on his face, heading out the exit.

"Yo, Mishima!" Ryuji calls.

The boy's head perks up and he turns. When he sees them, his eyes widen. "S-Sakamoto? And Kurusu too? Uh, what'd you guys want?"

Ryuji, oblivious to all the other students, asks, "Are you guys getting abused?"

"Huh?" Mishima's eyes manage to grow even wider. "Uh, no! Of course not!"

Akira steps forward and whispers, "We already know about it."

"Y-you do?"

A grin cracks Ryuji's face. "Alright! Confirmation!"

Mishima shakes his head. "Wait! No, that's not right. We're not getting abused. Kamoshida-sensei just pushes us because he wants our team to perform well. Our practices are-"

"Don't give me that crap," Ryuji blurts. "Kamoshida coached the track team too, remember? I know all about his so called practices. They're just insane! I don't care how hard you need to get pushed to perform, you're covered in bruises, dude! So is everyone else on your team! That's _not_ normal."

Mishima pales beneath Ryuji's words. "We want to help," Akira says. "We want to stop him from hurting people. Can you help us?" At Mishima's silence, he adds, "Can you at least tell your parents, or the principal?"

Mishima mumbles something in response.

"Huh?" Ryuji asks.

"They already know," Mishima says. His eyes never leave the floor. "Our parents, the principal, a lot of the other teachers. They all know about the abuse, but they don't care. So long as we can use the volleyball team's prestige to get into a good school, they see it as a means to an end."

Akira does not know what to say. Ryuji does. "That's crazy! They can't do something like that!"

Mishima glares at them, finding his courage - misplaced though it may be - at last. "Would you two just please stop? This is how things work here. I don't want what happened to you to happen to me, Sakamoto. And Kurusu..." He pauses, and looks away from Akira's eyes. "I don't want to be labeled like you. So, just drop this thing, okay? Leave it alone. Leave me alone. Just stop."

#

The day ends. They left Mishima alone. Returned to the locker room and changed into their regular clothes.

Akira is crestfallen, but his friend looks worse. "I thought we'd get at least one person to come forward," Ryuji mumbles, as they stand around outside the locker room.

"We'll find another way," Akira replies.

"Okay." Ryuji does not sound like he believes it. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. "I told my mom I'd be home early today, so I gotta run. Later, man." Ryuji trudges off down the hall.

Akira thinks he understands. The idea that Kamoshida's abuse is endorsed by parents and teachers alike hurts Ryuji. These are people who are supposed to protect you, defend you. He only thought they were dealing with one awful individual. In reality, they were dealing with a system.

Akira starts to leave. When he gets to Shujin’s entrance, he sees Ann Takamaki and another girl. Pretty in an unassuming way with small features, her black hair pulled into a ponytail. Her leg, he sees, wears a medical wrap. The girls smile at each other, but even at a distance it seems forced and awkward.

As he approaches, Ann - who does not see him - bids the girl farewell, and walks off. The other girl turns in Akira's direction, and he sees that her face is scrunched up in worry. One eye is ringed in a thin, purple bruise. Then she sees him. "Oh. You're Kurusu-kun, yes?"

Akira blinks. This is unexpected. "Uh, yeah."

The girl smiles a bit and holds out her hand. "I'm Shiho Suzui. It's nice to meet you."

This is also unexpected. He reaches out and shakes it. "You as well."

She bites her lower lip and looks around. There are a few students in the hall, but they don’t pay the two of them much attention. "Um, I know this may sound a bit weird, coming from a stranger, but are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"It's just that I've heard a lot of rumors about you." She smiles when he stiffens. "Oh, don't worry. I know they're all made up. You don't seem like the delinquent type, anyway."

"Oh, I, uh, I see. Thanks, but I'm okay."

"That's good. I had a good friend who had to deal with a lot of rumors last year, so you could say I'm used to that kind of thing. They'll die down eventually. Just stay strong until then, okay?"

Akira smiles. "Thank you," he says. Then he nods towards her knee’s wrapping. "Mind if I ask if you're okay?"

Her eyes widen and she glances around once more. "Oh, yes. I'm fine. It's just a little something I got from volleyball practice."

"Volleyball practice?" He looks at her, and remembers. He’s seen this girl in the castle. She is another of Kamoshida’s cognitive sex slaves. He recalls Mishima’s words. "I'm sorry."

A small smile returns to her face. "What are you sorry for?"

"I want to help you," he says. "But I don't know how."

Shiho doesn't reply for a moment. Then she checks the small watch on her wrist and whispers, "I need to get to practice. Take care, Kurusu-kun. Everything will be fine."

He watches her walk away, a sick feeling in his gut. "I hope so," he says to no one.

That night, Akira's sleep is dreamless, but he does not wake refreshed.

 

4/14

Akira and Ryuji stand in the courtyard’s alcove. It is lunchtime, and neither can think of a way to stop Kamoshida without one of the abused coming forward.

"Can we really do this?" Ryuji asks.

"I-" Akira starts, but a familiar voice cuts him off.

"I finally found you!" A black cat with tufts of white on its face and tail hops up onto the alcove’s table. It glares at the two, teeth bared. "Did you think you could just leave me behind?"

Ryuji looks at the cat, then turns to Akira and says, "What."

"Is that you, Morgana?" Akira asks.

"Obviously! Who else would I be?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ryuji says. He pats the air with his hands. "Hold up." He takes a breath, and then slaps himself in the face. Once finished, he looks at the cat and says, "You're not really Morgana, right?"

"How thick is your skull?"

Ryuji nods and says, "Well, that's it. I've officially gone off the deep end." He looks at Akira. "If you need me, I'll be in the loony bin."

Akira ignores him and asks, "How are you here?"

"Did you guys think you were the only two who could go in and out of the Metaverse?"

"Then why are you a cat?"

"I don't know, this is what happened when I left."

"Why can you talk?"

"Because I'm a human, how many times do I have to say it?"

Akira frowns at Ryuji. "This," he says. "Is very weird."

"No kidding."

"Now listen here," Morgana says. He arches his back, but doesn't finish his sentence. A soft clicking noise, in the rhythmic beat of footsteps, echoes into the small space they occupy.

"Shit, dude," Ryuji says. "Someone's coming!"

He grabs Morgana by the scruff of the neck, hoists him up and shoves him towards Akira's bag.

"Hey, what're you-?" Morgana cries, but then is swallowed by Akira's carrier.

"Shhhh!" Ryuji scolds, as someone rounds the corner.

Makoto Niijima stands at the entrance to the alcove, hands at her side.

"Oh good," Ryuji mumbles, with a small chuckle. "I thought it might've been someone important."

Makoto's attention snaps to Ryuji, and with precise words, states, "Sakamoto-kun, I would like to speak with Kurusu-kun in private."

Ryuji rolls his eyes and says, "Uh-huh. Listen, we're a little busy here, so why don't you..." He trails off. Makoto's eyes have narrowed just a fraction, but the look is electric. Akira glances at Ryuji, and sees that he’s gone several degrees paler.

"Would you care to finish your thought, Sakamoto?" She asks. The air is frigid. The sun has vanished, and shall never be seen again.

"Uh, n-no."

"I see, then would you give us a moment?"

Ryuji swallows, and squeaks out, "Sorry, bro. Good luck." He keeps his eyes on the ground as he speeds past the Student Council President. A few moments later, Akira can hear the door to the practice building opening and slamming closed.

He is now alone with Niijima, save for the cat in his bag. Yet, all thoughts of Morgana have withered in his mind. When she turns her gaze to him, his mouth goes dry. _God, I think her eyes actually_ are _red!_

Akira opens his mouth, but is cut off by her raised hand. Palm out, erect and still, his sentence slams into it like a car crash.

"Kurusu-kun, I can appreciate the pressure you must be under, having transferred to a new school. However, I do _not_ appreciate having my time wasted. Kawakami-sensei assigned you to me. If you do not value your own time, that is your business. You will, however, respect the value of mine." She breaks long enough to take a short breath, then continues. "I do not take my responsibilities lightly. Therefore, you will attend our study sessions from now on. I, unfortunately, do not have the time to spare for you today. I will inform you of when these sessions will start. Do not ditch me again. Are we clear?"

Akira nods, vehemently. "Y-yes." His heart is pounding in his chest.

She nods, curtly. "Very well. Good day, Kurusu-kun." She turns on her heel and walks off. The clicking of her shoes recedes until it is gone.

Akira lets out a sigh, and the bag on his shoulder shifts. Morgana pops his head out and stares at him, wide eyed. "Whoa," he says. "She's scary, huh?"

"Y-yeah. No kidding."

"Uh, Akira?”

"What?"

"Why are you smiling?"

#

Ryuji kicks a pebble across the school's rooftop. It _tick-tick-ticks_ its way against the metal. "I hate the guy. I really do. But I don't want to kill him."

Akira nods. "I agree."

“If you guys want to stop Kamoshida, taking his treasure is the only way!"

"But you just said it'll make him, like, stop eating and shit! We may as well just shoot him with a gun or something."

"I said it _might_ happen. Kamoshida must've been someone normal before his desires got all distorted. If we steal the source of the distortion, he should return to being an honest man. That doesn't mean he'll stop desiring things like food and air."

"But," Akira says. "It could happen, though."

Morgana sighs. "Honestly, I've never successfully stolen a treasure from a palace before. It could happen, but it's extremely unlikely."

"Wait, wait, wait," Ryuji says. "If you've never done this before, how'd you even know it's what we're supposed to do?"

"I-" Morgana starts, then looks away. "I don't remember."

"Oh, great. Just like you don't remember how you became a cat, right?"

"Shut up!" Morgana shouts. "I _am_ a human, and I _know_ that stealing a treasure is the same thing as taking away the target's distorted desires. I just do!"

"So, you want us to risk our lives, and possibly kill someone, over a gut feeling you've got? That's bullshit!"

"Guys," Akira says, putting one hand on Ryuji's shoulder and holding out his other to Morgana. "Come on. Calm down. Someone might hear us.” He looks down at Morgana. "I'm not doubting you're right. I'm not doubting you're really human. I've got no problem doing this, _if_ we knew that stealing Kamoshida's treasure would work just the way you explained it. But if there's a chance we could kill him? I don't want that on my conscience."

"Me neither," Ryuji puts in. "The guy's a total shitbag. He deserves prison and daily ass-kickings. But we can't just kill him."

Morgana looks at Akira, then Ryuji. "I thought you two had more guts than this. Kamoshida is abusing your fellow students, but you won't do anything because you might kill him?"

"Dude, that's a huge 'might!'"

"I’m sorry, Morgana," Akira says, frowning. "But there has to be another way."

Morgana turns and stalks to the roof’s edge. "I'll let you guys think about it for a while. Don't disappoint me."

Ryuji looks at Akira once Morgana is gone. "That cat is kind of a dick."

#

Akira is at Shibuya when he sees Ann. She is hard to miss. The blonde hair. The red leggings. When he spots her, she is sliding her phone back into her pocket, a sad and frustrated look on her face.

It's strange to see her removed from school. But strange is the norm for him now.

He doesn't know why he does it, but he walks up to her. He's a few paces away when she turns to him, like she'd known he was there all along. "Why're you following me?" She asks, venom in her voice.

"I wasn't. This is where I transfer home."

"Oh, sorry."

He shrugs. "It's fine." They're no longer looking at each other. Akira, hands in his pockets, asks, "So, are you okay?"

"What's it to you?"

"I was in a castle," he says.

She blinks. "Huh?"

"On my first day," Akira says, and he stares at the pavement. "I was trapped in a castle. That's why I was late."

"A castle?"

He nods.

"You were trapped in a castle?"

"Ryuji was with me. You can ask him if you don't believe me."

A small smile tries to fight its way onto her face. "You're really weird, you know that?"

"Now you know my secret," he says. "So, are you okay?"

Ann stares at him for a moment, and he realizes that he's begun to think of her as 'Ann.' It makes him smile. Maybe it's the grin that does it, but she sighs and says, "This is embarrassing. If you're going to hang around with me, let's at least go somewhere quiet."

She leads him away from the station and onto Central Street. This is his first time here, and again he is overwhelmed by the sheer number of signs, attractions, stores and people. Ann navigates the crowds like an expert. _City people really are made of different stuff._

She leads him to a quiet diner, upstairs alongside an alley. It is rustic, with wood paneling and western decor. A waitress leads them to a booth and it is only then that Akira checks his wallet. "I should warn you," he says. "My finances are a bit strapped."

"This isn't a date, you know."

"I know, just FYI."

Ann orders a decaffeinated soda. Akira asks for coffee. They sit in silence for a time, and though he stares at her from across the table, Ann won't meet his eyes.

"I felt bad for you," she says. "What with all those rumors were flying around. I knew some of them had to be lies. I know a thing or two about how bad that kind of thing can get." Her shoulders bunch up, and she sucks in her lower lip. "Everyone thinks I'm having sex with Kamoshida. They've always thought I was easy, because of my looks." She glances up at him. "I'm not fully Japanese, by the way."

Akira nods, but doesn't say anything.

"You saw Kamoshida pick me up in his car the other day, right? He does that a lot. He thinks it means he'll get to sleep with me. At first, I could just brush it all off. But my friend Shiho is on the volleyball team." Akira remembers the girl from yesterday, but his thoughts flee when tears leak from Ann's eyes. "She's relying on a volleyball scholarship to get into college. But Kamoshida keeps threatening to kick her from the team if I don't sleep with him. He just keeps pushing and pushing. That was him on the phone, when you saw me by the station. He wanted to meet up today, like now." She crumples and begins to cry.

Akira's hands ball into fists.

"I don't want to," Ann says. "I hate him so much. But Shiho is the only one who stuck up for me. She's my best friend, and if I don't, she'll lose everything."

The waitress has brought their drinks, and stares at the two awkwardly. Akira mouths, "Thank you," to her and slides the decaffeinated soda over to Ann.

"I don't know what to do," she says.

"Don't go to him," Akira replies. She looks up at him, confusion writ across her face. "Just don't."

They stare across the table at each other, and then Ann wipes her eyes. "That's some sound advice. And a bit obvious."

Akira smiles and shrugs. "I'm smart like that. Have you told your parents? The principal?”

She shakes her head. “My parents aren’t really around. I mean, I’m not an orphan or anything. Their work has them abroad a lot, is all. And he’s too careful. He’s never obvious when he asks for it. If I accused him of anything inappropriate, he’d just chalk it up to a misunderstanding.”

Akira does not know what to say to this. “I met Shiho. She was nice.”

Ann giggles. “Yeah, she is. She really, really helped me when the rumors about me got bad. That’s why I don’t want her to lose everything because of me.”

“But you can’t just do what he wants, right?”

“No, I know.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “You know, this is the first time I’ve spoken about this, with anyone.”

Akira looks down at his coffee. “I wish I was more help.”

She smiles at him, and it is warm and lovely. “I may not have a solution, but I do feel better. So, thanks for that.”

Akira remembers Morgana's warning about stealing the palace's treasure. He knows it could kill Kamoshida, but a part of Akira wonders if that'd be such a bad thing. _The prick deserves it_.

"Hmm," Ann says, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. "You're not such a bad guy, after all." Her eyes narrow. "Is it true that you hide a knife in your bag?"

Akira shakes his head. "No. Today, it was just a cat."

She looks at him and laughs. It is loud and delightful. "You are _so_ weird."

#

Shiho stands outside Kamoshida's office.

She is shaking. She wants to run away, _so_ badly. She wants to hide from the whole world. She wants Ann. She wants her mom and dad.

She knocks on the door.

"Come in."

When she steps inside the office, Kamoshida is hunched over his desk, scribbling something. His chiseled back bulges from his tight t-shirt. "Mishima-kun said you wanted to see me, Kamoshida-sensei?"

Slowly, Kamoshida turns and regards her. He is smiling.

"Shut the door, Shiho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A cheery end for all your Wednesdays. Thank you for reading!


	9. A Lack of Options

4/15

"Good morning, Miss Prez."

"Good morning."

"Morning Niijima-senpai!"

"Good morning."

Makoto stands outside Shujin's front gate. Her bag is tucked under her arm. Her posture is refined. Her hair, immaculate. She ate well. She is well-rested. She is clear-headed.

The students greet her warmly. She smiles and returns their salutations. She waits for Akira Kurusu.

Her mind is better. No more errant thoughts about Kurusu. Nothing about his lean frame. Nothing about his dark and deep eyes. Nothing.

She had enjoyed telling him off yesterday. Watching Sakamoto squirm under her gaze had been satisfying, but seeing the sweat bead on Kurusu's forehead, then slide down his cheek as she spoke had been _exhilarating_. Makoto still was not sure why he had been smiling near the end of it, but it didn't matter. She had made the nature of their relationship clear. She was in charge.

She spies Akira making his way down the road towards Shujin. He is slouched and his hair hangs loose in his face. "Good morning, Kurusu-kun," Makoto says, and the boy halts mid-step.

He glances up at her, and she is thrilled to see him pale. "Morning, Niijima-senpai."

"I wanted to catch you before class, and tell you that our study sessions shall begin after school today." She waits a single beat before she narrows her eyes and drops the bomb. "Unless, of course, you plan on ditching me again."

Kurusu gulps. _Tables, turned._ "No," he says.

"Good." His lips curl upwards, and she feels her pulse quicken. She turns before it speeds up any more. "I hope your day goes well."

"And yours," he calls after her. There's a lilt to his voice, a slow, smooth inflection. _No, I'm imagining that_. There's nothing behind them. But Makoto's mind rebels once more, and as she winds her way through Shujin's halls, she cannot help but find one word to describe how he'd said his two. _Flirty_.

#

School ticks by until someone screams, "Oh my god! What's she doing?"

Pandemonium. Everyone stands and stares. From his position near the back of the class, Akira cannot see what they are looking at. Despite their teacher's protests, students shove their way towards the door, out into the hall.

"I think she's going to jump!"

"Who is it?"

"That's Shiho Suzui!"

Ann leaps from her desk, and a gasp dies in her throat. She sprints to the door, and Akira follows.

Out in the hall, Ann presses herself up against the window, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Shiho stands on the roof overlooking the courtyard. She does not appear to be looking anywhere but ahead. Akira cannot see the expression on her face, but her body is slack.

She does not jump. She simply falls forward and plummets.

"SHIHO!" Ann screams.

He does not hear the impact, but imagines a thick _thud_ when she collides with the ground. Ann's scream continues as she tears herself from the window and runs for the stairwell.

Akira makes to follow, and feels a hand on his shoulder. He spins into the face of Ryuji. "Dude, what's going on?”

"Suzui just jumped off the roof!" Akira says, and turns to follow Ann.

"For real?" Ryuji asks, but Akira doesn't answer. The two race downstairs and out to the courtyard.

They find Ann near the back of a crowd. A huge circle surrounds the fallen and broken body of Shiho. Ann, pale and quaking, is trying to push her way through. Akira hears the click of camera phones, the excited whispers of the students. No one moves for Ann.

Ryuji takes a look at the crowd and shouts, "Out of the way, you assholes!" And charges. He plows directly between two first-year students, reaches out and grabs Ann's hand, then drags her into the fray. Akira runs in their wake, and presses forward as Ryuji elbows and shoves their way towards Shiho.

They clear the crowd, and Ryuji drops Ann's hand. She runs to Shiho's body and kneels next to it. "Shiho, Shiho, oh my god!"

Akira is close enough to see the girl's eyes slide open, and the noise of the crowd dims just enough for him to hear her say, "I'm sorry, Ann. I just can't take it anymore." Her eyes close.

Ann does not know what to do with her hands. One moment, they dart towards Shiho, then stop and collapse back over her mouth. She is sobbing, calling her friend's name, and no one is helping.

Akira looks at Ryuji and says, "Ambulance! We need an ambulance!" He turns to the crowd. The first face he sees is Makoto Niijima's. She stands at the edge of the crowd, eyes wide in horror, her hand clamped over her mouth. She meets Akira's gaze, but there is no recognition there.

Someone must've called an ambulance, because a pair of EMTs soon arrive with a stretcher. Even then, they need to push and shove their way to the girl's side. Arrangements are hastily made, and Ann demands to accompany them to the hospital. Only then do the teachers take back some control, and insist on all the students returning to class.

Few listen.

Ryuji grabs Akira's arm and drags him from the courtyard. His eyes are hard and his teeth are set. Akira does not ask where they are going.

They find Mishima by his locker, his face pale, his hands shaking, back pressed up against the wall for support.

Ryuji marches right up to him. "You have to come forward," he says. "About everything."

Mishima shakes his head. "I can't."

It does not feel right to pressure the boy, but there's something cold inside Akira right now. "A girl just tried to kill herself."

Mishima stares at his feet, and when he speaks, his words are barely more than a mumble. "Kamoshida called her to his office yesterday. He..." The word goes unspoken, but all three men hear it still. It floats around them like poison in the air.

_Rape_.

Kamoshida raped Shiho.

Akira looks at Ryuji. It takes him a moment to explain to his friend what Ann had told him yesterday. He finds it disturbingly easy to explain. "He must've gotten tired of waiting for Ann."

"So he-" Ryuji starts, then stops. "That... that..." Then he is gone. Sprinting down the corridor towards the stairwell.

Akira and Mishima glance at one another, and follow. They catch up to him the moment he enters Kamoshida's office.

The man sits at his desk, back to them, unperturbed. "Stand up," Ryuji says, his voice just above a whisper.

Kamoshida turns and regards the three with a bored expression. "Huh? What'd you losers want?"

"I said, 'Stand up.'"

"Ryuji," Akira whispers, but Ryuji shakes his head.

"No. No more behind the scenes bullshit." His voice rises as he speaks. "Shiho just tried to kill herself because of you!"

Kamoshida sighs and shakes his head. "I'd like to see you prove that. Poor girl was just disturbed, that's all.”

"You're lying." Kamoshida, Akira and Ryuji turn to Mishima, who stares at the ground in front of Kamoshida's feet. "You told me to get her. Yesterday, after practice. You told me to get her and bring her to your office. You-"

"I suggest you shut that mouth of yours, you sniveling little runt," Kamoshida says, finally standing. His indifference is gone. Cold, hard anger washes over the three young men. "Because you can't back up a single thing you're saying. I just heard from the other faculty. Suzui's in a coma, so she won't be saying anything for a while." He looks at each of the boys in turn. "And neither will you. You're all expelled."

"What?" Ryuji asks.

Akira's feels his blood go cold. It shames him, but fear has suddenly settled in his stomach. _Expelled? No, no, I can't be! Not again!_

"You can't do that!" Mishima cries.

"I most certainly can," Kamoshida replies. "I'll be sure to bring it up at the next board meeting. It won't be hard to convince the rest of them. Sakamoto, you assaulted me last year. They'd believe you'd try it again. As for you," and he nods at Akira, "well, you already have an assault record. Kicking you out of here will be easy. And Mishima," he grins as the boy cowers before him, "you should be ashamed of yourself. Posting Kurusu's criminal records online like that."

Akira turns his head to Mishima. Ryuji does too. "That was you?" Akira asks.

"He made me do it!" Mishima shouts, looking first at Ryuji, then at Akira. "Please, he made me! Told me that if I didn't I'd get abused all the more!"

Kamoshida shakes his head. "Pathetic. You always were a whiny little bitch, Mishima."

"You, bastard!" Ryuji shouts, and cocks his arm back. Akira moves before he can think about it, and grabs his friend around the waist and hauls him back. "What're you doing?" Ryuji cries.

"There's another way!" Akira tells him. Then, it hits him. _That's right. There is another way_. He hadn't even been thinking about what Morgana had told them.

It dawns across Ryuji's face as well. "Right, _that_."

"Go have your flight of fancy somewhere else," Kamoshida says, waving the three of them off like insects. "I don't have the time. The next board meeting isn't scheduled to May, so enjoy what remaining school life you have left."

Akira and Ryuji walk out into the hall, Mishima on their heels. "We've got to talk with Morgana," Akira says.

"Damn right," Ryuji replies. "Let's go find him." The two boys take off down the hall, leaving Mishima standing there, alone.

#

School is cancelled. No one leaves. Most are still wired from Shiho's jump, but the two boys find the courtyard's alcove blessedly empty, sans cat.

"I heard about what happened," Morgana says. He is seated on the table as if he belongs there. "Did a girl really try to commit suicide?"

"Yeah, she..." Ryuji begins, but then they hear a familiar clicking noise. Footsteps coming around the corner. "Shit!" Ryuji grabs Morgana once more and shoves him inside Akira's bag.

"Hey, wha-!”

"Quiet," Ryuji whispers, as Makoto Niijima rounds the corner.

"Oh," she says, when she sees them. "I thought this place would be... never mind."

Akira looks at her face, and remembers the look of horror she'd displayed earlier. Her skin is still pale. Her eyes are rimmed in red. He looks away.

Makoto clears her throat and straightens. "I suppose this works out. I'm afraid, Kurusu-kun, that I'll need to cancel today's study session. I'm... I'm not..."

"I understand," he says. "I'm not feeling well, either."

She nods. "Very well. I'll let you know when we will continue." Her voice cracks on the last syllable, and she turns around quickly and begins to walk away.

He does not know why, but he calls out. "Niijima-senpai?" She pauses and looks back at him. He tries to smile. It sort of works. "I look forward to it."

She smiles as well, but there is little behind it.

#

With Makoto gone, Morgana pokes his head out of Akira's bag. "Stop shoving me in here!" He yells at Ryuji.

Akira slides the bag from his shoulder and sets it on the table. "Where else was I supposed to put you?" Ryuji asks.

"You have a bag," Akira points out.

"Hey!"

Both boys stiffen as Ann's voice echoes in the little alcove. "Crap!" Ryuji mumbles, and shoves Morgana's head back into Akira's bag.

"Oh, come on!" Morgana groans, before Ann turns the corner.

"H-hey, Takamaki," Ryuji says, glancing everywhere but at her.

"I want in."

Akira and Ryuji look at each other. Both shrug, and Akira asks, "In on what?"

"Drop the airhead act," Ann says. "Whatever you're going to do to Kamoshida, I want to help."

"We're not-"

"Don't lie to me," Ann yells, her voice cracking. Her hands are fists and she squeezes her eyes tight. "I just got back from the hospital. Shiho's in a coma. That twisted bastard did this to her, because I..."

"Stop it," Ryuji says, his voice hard. "That's not your fault."

"You don't know that. If I'd done what Kamoshida had wanted, Shiho wouldn't have tried to kill herself! I have to make it right!"

Ryuji lets out a sigh and takes a few steps closer to her. "Ann, don't do that. Kamoshida is going to get what's coming to him, okay? You should go be with Shiho right now. She needs you."

"She needed me yesterday when he was doing those things to her, and I wasn't there! So stop trying to make me feel better and let me help, Ryuji!"

He scowls. "Look, you can't come with us, okay? Kamoshida just expelled the two of us, so we've got nothing to lose! Don't eff up your whole future because of this!" Ann opens her mouth to retort, but Ryuji shouts, "Just back the hell off, Takamaki!"

His vehemence takes Akira aback. _But he's right. She can't come with us. She doesn't have a Persona, either. We don't have the time to explain all this to her, and..._ And the truth is, what they're about to do may end up killing the man.

Ann looks into Ryuji's face, and the tears start anew. "You're an asshole, Ryuji." But she turns and marches off.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira's bag, but the three remain silent for a few moments, before Ryuji sighs and says, "Man, that did not feel good."

"Wasn't much else we could do," Akira replies.

"I know."

Morgana shimmies his way out of the bag and stretches his legs. "So, I take it this means you guys have changed your mind?"

"Yeah," Ryuji says, turning to the cat. "I don't care what happens to him. This shit has got to stop."

"I agree,” Akira says.

Morgana bobs his head in a nod. "Alright then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Short, and not so sweet. But, the next chapter is tentatively called, 'Habanera.' I hope you all have a great weekend. And again, thank you very much for reading.


	10. Habanera

The school twists into the castle. Akira's clothes burst into blue flames and resolve themselves into his Thief's outfit. Morgana rises on his hind legs, his head bulbous and wide eyed. Ryuji pats down his leather jacket and chrome mask, a big grin on his face.

"Okay, guys," Morgana says. "We need to discuss something important."

Ryuji lets out a groan. "Come on. There's something _else_ we need to know?"

"You'll like this one.”

"Doubt it."

"Code names."

Ryuji blinks. "Never mind. We get code names?"

Morgana nods. "I think it'd be a good idea. We don't know what the result of us shouting our real names inside the Palace will be. So, we should settle on what to call one another." Morgana glances at Akira, a glint in his eyes. "Don't you agree, _Joker_?"

"Hmm?"

Ryuji's jaw drops. "Dude, that's awesome! Okay, Akira's Joker from now on!"

"Why 'Joker?'" Joker asks.

"Because you're our 'ace,'" Morgana replies.

"So why isn't my codename 'Ace?'"

Morgana sighs. "Do you _want_ to be called Ace?"

"No, no," Joker says, straightening his jacket, a small smile on his face. "Joker will be just fine."

"Me next! Me next!" Ryuji shouts, his hand in the air. "How about 'Badass?'"

"How about not," Morgana replies.

Joker nods. "That's terrible. We're not going to keep referring to you as 'Badass' as we're running around the Palace."

Ryuji's face falls, but only for a moment. "Fine. How about 'Troublemaker?'"

"Too long."

"Slaughter-house?"

"That's even longer!"

"Biker? Cause I look like one?"

"But you don't have a bike."

Ryuji throws his hands up in the air. "Well, what else is there?"

"Your mask is pretty cool," Joker says.

Ryuji frowns, and feels the outside of his mask. He grins. "Skull."

"That's good," Joker says. "Really good."

Ryuji straightens and folds his arms across his chest. "I'm Skull."

"Alright, so what about me?" Morgana asks.

"Do you even need one?" Skull asks.

"I-I can't be the only one without a codename? That's so lame!"

Joker frowns. "You probably wouldn't like, 'Cat,' would you?"

Morgana's eyes narrow. "No. Way."

"How about Mona?" Skull asks, with a shrug. "Nice and short. Kind of sounds like his real name."

"Hmmm," Morgana says, and tries it out. "Mona. I like it. A lot. Okay, I'm Mona."

"Skull, Mona, and Joker," Skull recites. "We sound awesome!"

Joker turns to the castle. "Then, I suppose it’s time."

"Right!" Mona strides forth, and glares up at the castle’s balustrades, its jagged towers, its black banners beating in the stale wind. "Time for us to steal the Treasure! Let's begin our infil-"

"OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS PLACE WHAT IS HAPPENING?" The voice is a screech, and all three thieves jump.

They turn and see Ann Takamaki standing on the drawbridge, face pale, eyes wide, knees quaking, arms wrapped around herself.

"The hell?” Skull asks. “Takamaki?"

"Ryuji?" Ann approaches the trio with a few slow steps. "Is that you? What the hell are you wearing?"

"Never mind that! What're you doing here?"

"I don't even know where here is!" She stares past them and takes in the Palace. "A castle," she mutters, then looks at Akira. "You were telling the truth?"

"Uh," Joker manages, then feels a small paw slap the back of his head. "Ow!"

"You told her about the castle?" Mona shouts, waving his arms.

"No! I told her I was late to school because I was trapped in a castle."

"How is that _'not'_ telling her about the castle?"

"I didn't explain it!"

"Would someone tell me what's going on?"

The three thieves look at Ann, then wordlessly huddle up. "This is bad," Mona says. "If she keeps making a racket, the shadows will hear her."

"Yeah," Skull replies. "This place is way too dangerous for her."

"Don't ignore me!”

"What'd you want to do, Joker?" Mona asks.

"I agree with Skull," Joker says. "She can't stay here, we should send her back."

"Agreed."

"Got it."

"I said, 'Don't ignore me!'"

"So, uh, which one of us is going to make her go back?" Skull asks.

Mona and Joker glance at each other. "Not it," both say together.

Skull's jaw drops. "Son of a... are you kidding me?"

Joker straightens and begins to fiddle with his gloves. "It has been decided."

"Fine." Skull turns to Ann. "Listen, Takamaki. We'll explain everything, I promise. But you've got to leave right now."

"Like hell! I'm not going anywhere until one of you jerks tells me what's going on. Also," and she points at Morgana. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Thing?" Mona repeats, eyes downcast.

Skull puts his hands on Ann's shoulders and starts to gently push her backwards. "I promise I'll tell you everything," he says. "But I can't right now. It's way too dangerous here."

Ann tries to swat his hands away. "Hey! Don't think you can use this time to cop a feel!"

"I-I'm not!" Skull turns back to the other two. "Could you guys help me out here?"

Joker frowns and nods. Together, the two of them are able to push Ann to the boundary of the drawbridge. One moment, they are pushing her, and the next, she stumbles backwards and vanishes.

"Uh, did that do it?" Skull asks. "We didn't just kill her, did we?"

"No, it's fine," Mona replies. "That's how people normally look when they leave. They just kind of pop out of the air."

Skull shakes his head. "Man, we are going to have some serious explainin' to do when we wrap this up." He points a finger in Joker's face. "And don't think you're going to leave it all to me! You know I'll just screw that part up."

Mona shakes his head. "I don't think anyone expects you do to the explaining, Skull."

"Can it, cat."

"Alright, alright," Joker says, patting the air democratically. "Crisis averted, right? Shall we go?"

"Right!" Mona spins around, strides forth, and glares up at the castle’s balustrades, its jagged towers, its black banners beating in the stale wind. "It's time to steal the Treasure! Let's begin out infil-"

"Yeah, the moment's gone, Mona," Skull puts in.

"Skull's right," Joker says. "Let's just go in."

Mona’s head droops. "Fine! But sooner or later you two are going to let me say something cool!"

#

"Ow!" Ann shouts as she lands on her butt. "You jerks, I'm gonna..." She trails off. She's back. The school is the school. She is in the small alley just across from the front gate. Students linger and converse amongst themselves. "What the heck?"

She picks herself up and pats herself down. A faint beep comes from her pocket.

She takes out her phone and sees a malignant eye icon staring back at her. _What's this? Wait a second! Didn't Kurusu do something with his cellphone before everything got all weird?_ Was this it? Could she get back to the castle this way? Should she go back? Ryuji had said it was dangerous.

Her grip tightens a fraction around her phone. No. She _has_ to go. That castle has something to do with Kamoshida, she's sure of it. Those guys hadn't been subtle about planning something against him. If she goes back, she can help. She can get revenge for Shiho.

Ann steels herself and clicks the icon.

#

"So, this is a safe room?" Joker asks, and drops into an uneven bench.

"Yep," Mona replies, hopping up onto the wooden table in the center of the room. "This is a place where the distortion is at a minimum. We'll be safe from shadows in here, and we can regroup and discuss our infiltration.”

"Sweet," Skull says, and pokes one of the manacles hanging from the ceiling with his finger. "It's still kind of creepy in here, though."

Their infiltration has, so far, been smooth. Mona's guidance led them around a number of shadows, and their encounters with the guards amounted to nothing more than quick skirmishes.

"Now," Mona says. "the Treasure should-"

From beyond the safe room's door comes a muffled cry. "Get off me!"

The three freeze and look at each other. "Was that...?" Mona asks.

"Takamaki!" Skull says. "What's she doing back here?"

No one has an answer. They return to the hall and find it empty save for echoes. Stealth is abandoned in favor of pursuit. The three rush through the halls, led by the high-pitched protestations of Ann Takamaki.

They find her in the Pleasure Hall. She is shackled by the wrists - upright - to a marble column alongside Kamoshida's tacky heart-shaped bed. The King stands before her, hands on his hips, the cognitive Ann at his side, with one arm draped across his broad shoulders.

The other girls continue their exertions on the floor and on the bed, with each other and with themselves.

A squad of soldiers turn an about face when the thieves enter. They are a wall between the knaves and their lord.

The King, for once, is not speaking. Instead, Ann speaks to Ann. "It's not like I can actually do anything," the scantily dressed version says. "All I can and should do is be a willing recipient of the King's desires."

Ann - the real Ann - is pale. She struggles against her bonds, but there's little energy behind it. Her eyes are wide and hollow. "Stop it," she whispers. "Whatever this is, just stop it."

"See?" Kamoshida asks, and cups the fake Ann's chin with one hand. He towers over her, tilts her head back, and sticks his tongue in her mouth. The fake Ann moans.

The real Ann winces, shuts her eyes and shakes her head. "Stop it!"

Kamoshida breaks the kiss. "This is how you really are, Takamaki. Complacent. Willing. Greedy for it. Flexible." He sweeps his arm in a wide arc around the room, indicating the other girls. "This is how you all are. You can fight it all you want, but deep down, all you really want is to be loved by me."

Skull steps forward, hands tightening around his pipe. "We gotta-"

"Kill them," Kamoshida commands. The guards convulse and burst into smirking goblins with sharp horns and tails. Their slobber drips to the floor, and they scatter forward on all fours towards the three intruders.

The thieves summon their Personas.

The battle is underway, but Ann does not watch. She sees Shiho. She understands on an intuitive level, as she takes in her best friend - dressed in a skimpy, sexualized school girl outfit, and rubbing herself - that this is not real. This _cannot_ be real. This is some rotting place in Kamoshida's mind. This is how he views the world.

Cognitive Shiho sees her watching, and smiles. "I'm so worthless," she says. "I should have just obeyed. The only thing I want in this world is to be loved by King Kamoshida. I was confused, is all. Confused. That's why I cried during it."

"Shut up," Ann growls.

"If only I had-"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Skull smashes his pipe into the face of one of the goblins, then ducks away as another swipes its claws at him. "This freakin' sucks!" He shouts.

Joker dives away from two of the things, swinging his blade as he does so. One of the monsters hisses as he cuts it, but it does not die. "Shit."

Mona's Zorro has little to do, as the creatures appear immune to any kind of wind attacks. He swings his falchion back and forth, a desperate look in his eyes as the creatures pursue him.

Kamoshida smiles as he watches the thieves' losing battle.

Then he hears the laughter.

He turns.

Ann's eyes bore into him. Her mouth is split wide and an awful, angry laugh pours from it. "This?" She asks in gasps. "This is how you see Shiho? Give me a break! If that's true, you're even more of an idiot than I thought, Kamoshida."

A few of the guards pause in their attacks, and sniff the air. They turn to regard the chained up girl.

"Shiho," Ann says. "Is strong, and smart and confident, and so cool and the best person in the whole world! And you..." Her face contorts into a snarl. "You _broke_ that." Her words are a howl. "I'M GOING TO PAY YOU BACK FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO HER, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

#

_Pain_.

Someone strides across brain with sharp stilletos. A strangled scream rips from her throat as she pitches forward, and her arms twist in their sockets as the chains hold her.

Blue fire rises before her, and soft, warm fingers caress her just beneath her chin, and tilt her head up. Ann looks into yet another version of herself, this one with an angry smile and golden eyes. "It's taken far too long," it says. "I began to fear you would never feel this fire."

Ann's eyes are wild, and she shudders as the hurt scribbles itself through her.

This other her leans in and locks eyes with Ann. She whispers, "This pales to hers. The agony. The shame. The past cannot be changed, but it can be avenged."

Ann stares at herself for a moment, then grits her teeth and _pulls_.

The other Ann smiles. "That's it. Fight. Who will bring Shiho's violator to justice if not you?"

The metal slices into her wrists. Her shoulders scream in protest. Nails hammer their way through her skull. Still, she pulls. "Know yourself. You can stomach their falsehoods. Swallow their jests." The fingers no longer lift gently. They curl and constrict around Ann's throat. "You can deal with their eyes upon you." She tightens her grip. "You can absorb all the blows. You can take _everything_. But?"

Ann's glare is pure hate. "They shouldn't have messed with my friend!" Her bonds shatter as the other her vanishes.

"Very good."

Crimson leather wraps itself around her face. She grips her mask and begins to tear.

"We shall proceed with the contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Misplaced restraint will yield you nothing."

"Bastard..." Ann growls as the leather starts to pull free.

"NOW DANCE UPON THE ASHES OF THOSE WHO WOULD HARM THE ONES YOU LOVE!"

A scream. A final pull. The mask rips free. Blood runs from her eyes like tears.

Flames.

"Holy shit!" Skull shouts.

A figure strides forth from the blaze. Her hair is curled into twin, night-black ponytails. Upon her face, she wears a thin, pink mask. Her body is ornamented with a long skirted black and red gypsy dress. It is both a flower and an inferno. One slender, muscled leg ending in a ruby high-heeled boot, is propped upon the back of a sniveling little beast of a man, its head in the shape of a heart. Another of the wimpy creatures drifts in the air like a kite, bound by the neck with a thin cord.

Ann's clothes twist around her and cocoon her into a skin-tight, bright red cat suit. Pink gloves cover her hands, stilettoed boots adorn her legs. She stares at her hand as a whip materializes within it.

A goblin scrambles towards her, and with a flick, she brings the hard rope against its face. It screeches in pain and drops to the floor. Ann struts up to it, and brings her stiletto down across its throat. "You know something, Kamoshida?" She turns her gaze upon the King, who stands protected behind a wall of freshly spawned soldiers. With a twist of her heel, she shatters the goblin's neck. "I'm not some pin-up girl you can get yourself off to." She looks over at the convulsing girls across the room. "And neither are any of these girls. Time to burn, asshole!" She charges forward. "Let's go, CARMEN!"

“Stop her!” Kamoshida shouts, and the soldiers dart forward.

They are met with a wall of fire. A cacophony of shrieks rises from their blasted bodies, and they burst into ash as the flames consume them.

The goblins flail as they are incinerated, and the three thieves run forward.

“You okay?” Joker asks as they reach her side.

She spares them only a glance as they join her. “I don’t really know what’s going on, but you guys better be ready, because I’m going all out!”

Shadows spawn and huddle themselves around Kamoshida, escorting him from the room. “Kill them,” he shouts as he retreats. “Kill all of them!”

“Yeah, you’d better run, you bastard!” Skull shouts after him.

The shadows swarm, and Ann steps forward and screams out her battle cry. “Dance, Carmen!”

#

The sun has set. The four of them sit on the ground outside Shujin's front gate.

Ann stares at the ground. "Crazy," she says. "This is all crazy."

Ryuji rubs the back of his head. "Ann, I'm sorry I told you off earlier. It's just-"

"It's okay," she says, cutting him off. Color has returned to her face, and she seems almost happy. "There was no way I'd believe any of this if you'd tried to explain it."

"But you got the gist of it?" Morgana asks, tail swishing from side to side.

Ann smirks, reaches out a hand and rubs Morgana's head. He mewls in reply. "I think so. The castle represents how Kamoshida views the school. If we steal his Treasure, he has a change of heart. Pretty straightforward."

"Straightforward, she says," Ryuji mumbles.

She turns to look at Akira, who is propped up against the wall. "So you _do_ hide a cat in your bag, huh?"

Akira smiles back at her. "Morgana is a human," he replies.

Morgana flashes him what approximates a grin in response. "Right," Ann says. "Sorry." A resolute look sets itself on her face, and she stands up, fists clenched. "I'm joining you guys! I want to take down Kamoshida too! Don't even think about telling me no."

Akira and Ryuji glance at each other. "We thought you already joined," Akira says.

"Yeah, having a badass Persona pretty much means you're in."

Pink tints Ann's cheeks. "O-oh. Well, good. Glad to hear it." She looks up at the school. Her hands are still clenched. "So, when are we going back in?"

#

Short black hair. Leather jacket. Choker. Ripped black leggings. Dark blue dress with a spider web pattern.

_Whoa_.

The woman glances over at him as he enters, smiles at his obvious reaction, and turns back to Sojiro. "Thanks for the coffee, Boss." Her voice is smooth, with a touch of humor.

Sojiro stands further down the bar, towards the television. "Come again," he says, as she stands.

"Money's on the table.”

Her nails are painted black, and she slides them into her pocket as she heads for the door. Akira slides to the side to let her pass. "Excuse me," she says, a small smile on her face. Then she's out the door.

"Don't go falling in love."

Akira looks over at Sojiro, who smirks at him from behind the bar.

"Huh?”

"Don't go falling in love. She's out of your league. Of all leagues. Hell, she's playing a whole other sport."

"No, I was just, uh, surprised to see someone in here this late." _Or at all_.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Her name is Takemi. She runs a clinic down the street."

"She's a doctor?"

"Beautiful women can't be doctors? You'll never pick up any ladies with that mentality."

Akira feels like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. Without another word, he speed walks the length of the bar and ascends the stairs.

Once back in his room, he sets his bag on the couch and unzips it. Morgana shimmies his way out, settles on the cheap leather, and looks around.

" _This_ is where you live?"

It was decided that Morgana needed a place to stay. Ann and Ryuji had both cited numerous reasons why they couldn't take him in. Each had sounded hollower than the last. With no other recourse, Akira had agreed to sneak Morgana into his room. He did not think it was a good idea.

He still doesn't.

Morgana hops off the couch and stalks his way around the room. "This place is a mess!"

"Give me a break," Akira says, shrugging. "I only got here a few days ago."

"Still, to think that my hideout would be-"

"Is that a cat?"

Sojiro stands at the top of the stairs. Akira feels the blood drain from his face, as his caretaker marches over to him.

"Is. That. A. Cat?"

"Yes."

"And why is it in my cafe?" His voice is flat, neutral. It is his eyes that pierce.

"It's been abandoned. I found it in the road. I couldn't just leave it."

Sojiro walks over to Morgana. He stares down at the cat. The cat stares up at him. This goes on for some time. "He's..." Sojiro starts, then stops. Another moment of silence. "He's..." The man coughs into his hand. Just as Akira begins to wonder if Sojiro has had a stroke, his caretaker blurts out, "He's _adorable_."

"What."

Sojiro squats down next to Morgana and holds out a finger. Morgana looks over at Akira, who shrugs. He walks up to the outstretched finger and rubs his face against it.

"Awww," Sojiro says. "I thought I heard meowing from downstairs. Has it eaten anything yet?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

Sojiro clicks his tongue. "You've got to feed the little guy. What's wrong with you?" He scratches the underside of Morgana's chin. "I'll see what I have downstairs."

He stands up and heads for the stairs. Akira calls after him, "So, can I keep him?"

Sojiro halts, his hand on the banister. "This is a restaurant. He _cannot_ be allowed downstairs. If my customers see an animal running around, they're liable to call the health inspectors. That will be your responsibility."

"Sure," Akira says.

"Also, there's one more condition." Sojiro still has not turned around.

"What's that?"

"I get to name him."

Morgana looks up at Akira, eyes wide. "Oh, well, you see, he already kind of has a name, and-"

" _Prince_ ," Sojiro says. He begins to descend the stairs. "His name shall be Prince." Then he is gone. Akira can hear the sound of him rattling around in the kitchen.

"So, that happened," Morgana says.

"Yeah," Akira replies. He smiles down at Morgana. "I guess your name is Prince now."

"I don't think so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What a day, right? Thanks for reading. I took the name Prince from the Persona 5 Anthology comic. Check those out, if you've got the time.


	11. Hippocratic

4/16

Akira sweats all through his morning class. "Don't worry about it," Morgana whispers from time to time. "No one can see me in here." The cat treats his desk's underside as a crawlspace. He lays on his side, tail swishing lazily against Akira’s thigh.

"This was a bad idea," Akira says.

"It'll be fine."

Morgana had insisted on being brought to school. His reasoning had been to oversee Akira's ‘progression.’ Akira does not know what this means. He did not know it entailed keeping a cat in his desk at school.

Oddly enough, no one seems to notice, and the day passes with startling regularity.

Ryuji texts Akira and Ann after lunch.

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Yo! Let's meet on the roof after school! Time to take down the castle!_

**_ANN_ ** _: Don't text us when we're in class!_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: You guys are actually paying attention?_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: I have a cat in my desk. I haven't heard a word anyone's said all day._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: HUH?_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Oh right, Mona. How's he doing?_

"Tell him I'm fine."

**_AKIRA_ ** _: He says he's fine._

**_ANN_ ** _: Guys, enough! We're gonna get in trouble!_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: After school then?_

**_ANN_ ** _: OMG YES OK?_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Cool._

School ends. Akira holds opens his bag and Morgana hops inside. "I'll meet you guys upstairs," Ann says, as she stands. "I've got to drop off some forms at the faculty office."

"Okay."

Akira leaves the classroom, and does his best to ignore the stares of the students. He ascends to the third floor and is about to continue his climb, when someone coughs their throat clear behind him.

He halts, mid-stride, and turns around. Makoto Niijima stands in the hall, a brow creased sentinel. "The roof is off limits, you know."

"Oh, uh, I was looking for the library."

"On the roof?"

Akira shrugs. "I don't really know my way around yet."

Makoto regards him silently for a few moments, then sighs and shakes her head. "I didn't mean to be inquisitive. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

_Crap_.

"You _have_ to go with her now," Morgana hisses from the bag. "She'll get suspicious if you don't."

Akira steps from the stairs and says, "Thank you."

Makoto half-turns away from him, and averts her eyes. "I should point out, that if you were looking to start our study sessions today, I'm afraid I can't. I apologize, but after yesterday..." She trails off.

"Oh, yeah. Hey, don't worry about it. I just wanted a book." Akira tries to smile, but Makoto doesn’t see it. She sets off down the hall. Akira follows.

The library is claustrophobic with desks, tables, and stacks. A mass of eyes shoot his way once Akira enters, and despite the large sign over the door that reads, ‘Quiet Please,’ whispers sprout in force.

"Isn't that the second year with the record?"

"What's he doing here?"

"He's not going to _study_ , is he?"

"I don't like this, he's got a crazy look in his eyes."

"You don't think he's going to attack us, do you?"

Makoto steps up alongside him, and the murmurs dim but do not die. She turns to Akira and says, "I'm sorry about-"

"It's fine," Akira mutters. He grabs a book off the nearest shelf and shambles over to the circulation desk. "This is the book I wanted anyway."

Makoto glances at the title. " _'The Biology of Shrimp_?' That's an, um, interesting choice."

_Crap. Crap. Crap_.

"You are awful at this," Morgana whispers.

"I need it for, uh, work. And food. I help make food for work."

"Oh."

The girl at the circulation desk does not meet Akira's eyes as she checks the book out. When he takes it back, she gasps out a little frightened squeak. Akira scowls, tucks the book under his arm, and turns to leave.

"Kurusu-kun," Makoto says.

Akira looks at her. "Yeah?"

"We'll begin our sessions on Monday, alright?"

"Sure," Akira says. "Sounds good. I'll see you then, Niijima-senpai." He nods to her, once, then slides open the door to the library and rushes out.

Makoto stares at the open door. _'The Biology of Shrimp?' Yeah, right._

#

Ryuji paces the roof in small circles, fists clenched. "What'd ya mean, we gotta wait? That's bullshit!"

Morgana sighs. "Look, genius. Remember when he first flew into Kamoshida's Pleasure Hall? Akira and I got stomped on. We would've been screwed if you hadn't awakened Captain Kidd. And yesterday, if Lady Ann hadn't summoned Carmen, we would've been in a real mess."

Ann looks up at Akira and mouths the words, "Lady Ann?"

Akira shrugs.

"My point is, we need to be cautious. We need to prepare. We should stock up on medical supplies we can use when we're inside."

Ryuji's jaw drops. "Like potions in a video game!"

Morgana rolls his eyes. "Well, if your cognition allows you to view them that way, then sure. We should also bring food. The Palace is huge, and we don't know where all the safe rooms are. Hell, we don't even know the general layout of the place. We could be in there for hours. If we run out of energy, or get hurt too badly, it’ll be difficult to get back out."

"Alright," Ann says. "Food shouldn't be a problem, but where are we going to get medical supplies? I don't think they sell more than aspirin and bandages at the pharmacy."

"Well, about that," Morgana says, and turns to Akira. "Remember that super-sexy doctor we met yesterday?"

Ryuji grins. "Whoa, dude! Details, now!"

Akira explains about Takemi. "She runs a clinic in my neighborhood."

"Exactly!" Morgana says. "She could sell us medical supplies."

Akira looks at the cat. "You want me to ask a doctor to sell us medicine to use in a cognitive castle?"

"No, obviously you'll make something up!"

"Just make something up?" Akira asks. "What am I supposed to say?"

Ryuji raises his hand. "Hey, Mona, I've got a question."

"What is it?"

"Should we bring guns?"

"Huh?" Everyone asks.

Ryuji reddens a little and clears his throat. "Well, the Personas are great and all, but every time we've used them, we get all tired and shit. Shouldn't we get some other weapons? Akira's got his dagger, Ann's got her whip, you've got a sword, and I've..."

"Got a pipe?" Ann asks.

"Yeah, I don't know what's up with that, it just kind of appeared in my hands." He shakes his head. "But that's not my point. If everything in that world is based on cognition, then couldn't we bring guns in and freak the shadows out or something?"

Morgana looks up at the blonde boy. "Ryuji, that's..."

"Dumb," Ann finishes.

"Brilliant!" Morgana shouts.

Ryuji blinks. "Wait, for real?"

"Seriously?" Ann asks.

"That could totally work!" Morgana says. "Even if the weapons are fake, the shadows won't know that. From their perspective, we're thieves. They'd expect us to have working guns."

"So toy guns would work like real guns?" Akira asks. "That seems like a really dangerous theory to test out."

"Trust me, it'll work," Morgana says. "Not bad, Ryuji."

Ryuji beams. "In that case, I've got the perfect place to get em! It's an airsoft shop in Shibuya. Really out of the way."

"Alright then," Morgana says. "Then this is the plan for today. Akira and I will go to the clinic and convince the doctor to sell us medicine."

"You mean, I'll convince her to sell us medicine. You're a cat."

"Whatever. While we're doing that, Ryuji, you take Lady Ann to this soft air place and buy some guns."

"Wait, why do I have to go?" Ann asks.

"Because someone's going to need to make sure he doesn't go overboard and draw suspicion."

"Oh. That's a good point."

"Alright!" Ryuji says, pumping his fist into the air. "Let's rock this shit!"

#

The clinic is a short walk from LeBlanc. It is a hole in the wall, a few steps up from the littered sidewalk. An ugly blue sign is the only indicator of its purpose.

Akira grips the doorknob. He feels a soft, pulsing vibration. _What’s this?_ He walks inside. Music blasts his eardrums. Morgana yowls from inside the bag. The beats are fast and vicious. The guitars screech, the drums pound.

The singer belts out something Akira thinks is English, but the voice is so scratchy and warped, he cannot be sure.

The auditory assault hits him from all sides, it promptly shuts off, and all he hears is ringing in his ears.

He is in a waiting area. The walls are a dull, metallic grey. Two tattered, red cushioned couches sit parallel to one another. A blank bulletin board. A magazine rack with dusty, yellowed publications. Alongside the door he's just entered is a potted dracaena. It's dead.

"Sorry about that."

To his left is a large service window, behind which sits Doctor Takemi, feet up upon a cluttered desk. A large, expensive looking radio hangs over the desk’s edge.

Her smile is coy. “I don’t get a lot of patients around this time.”

 She wears a white medical coat over a short, dark blue dress cinched with a thin red belt. It looks more like something one might wear to a club, rather than a doctor’s office. At the angle she’s sitting, the coat has slipped down to her upper arms, and Akira can see her shoulders, pale, bare, and curved. She’s still wearing the choker. And the high heels.

He feels his face redden. "That was loud,” he says.

"Smooth," Morgana whispers from the bag.

"That's the only way to play it. Otherwise, what's the point?" She bats long-lashed eyes at him, reaches into a drawer and pulls out a clipboard equipped with a form. She extends it out to him. "Here, fill this out."

"What's this?" Akira asks, accepting it.

"I need your information. You _are_  at a doctor's office, after all." She tilts her head. "Oh, I know you. You're that kid who showed up at LeBlanc last night. Boss did say he had taken a tenant upstairs." She looks him up and down. "You're cute in your uniform."

"I-"

She leans forward, folds her hands together, and rests her chin on them. "So, what brings Sojiro's ward to my little clinic? Are you feeling under the weather? Kids your age have a habit of running themselves ragged."

Akira remembers Sojiro's words. _She's out of your league. Of all leagues. Hell, she's playing a whole other sport._

"I need some medicine," he says. He makes no move to fill out the form.

Her smile remains, but her eyes go hard. "Oh?"

"Y-yeah. It's for my exams. To help my energy levels."

Takemi unfolds her hands and leans back in her chair. Her painted nails drum against the top of her desk. "So, you need _medicine_ to help with your _exams_?" He nods. She stands. Vanishes around the corner.

The sky blue door in the lobby clicks unlocked, and Takemi opens it. "Come with me."

He follows her into the hall. She leads him to a small, examination room. The exam table is blue, plush, and covered with sanitary paper. She gestures to it with her thumb. "Have a seat."

Akira sets his bag - Morgana included - on the ground, and hops up onto the table.

Next to the table is a small desk and swivel chair. Takemi drops into it, and spins around to face him. "What kind of game are you playing?" Her voice is still cool, still seductive, but there's an underlying harshness to it. "Is someone putting you up to this?"

"No, of course not."

"Then I suggest you come up with a better lie. Because 'medicine' and 'exams' rarely go together."

"I'm not lying," he says. He feels dirty, like he's just stepped through a cloud of dust and dirt. He realizes he is squirming beneath her maple brown gaze, but he can't stop. "It’s for my entrance exams. For college. I really do need it."

"Hmm." Her eyes glaze over and she stares up at the ceiling. She purses her lips and mutters a few things under her breath. Akira sits in silence. The full weight of what he is attempting to do crashes down upon him. _I'm trying to illegally obtain medicine. Holy shit! I'm trying to ILLEGALLY. OBTAIN. MEDICINE._ Why hadn't he thought this through? If Takemi reports him, he's finished. He'll get kicked out of school. He'll be in violation of his probation. He'll have to go back to juvy, and then to jail!

_Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god_.

"How badly do you need it?"

Akira blinks. "Sorry, what?"

Takemi smiles at him. "How badly do you need it?"

"Um, pretty badly."

"I see." She reaches out and snatches the clipboard out of Akira's hands. "Didn't write anything, huh? Well, never mind. Neither of us want this on the books. You understand that this is shady? As in, extremely shady. As in, you don't seem to grasp how shady this is, shady. So, let me ask you this. Have you ever been sick? Really sick, I mean?"

Akira shrugs. "I've gotten a cold a few times. Some sore throats and stuff."

"But no mono? Pneumonia? How about chicken pox? Anemia? Anything in your blood?"

"Uh, no."

"I see." She smiles. "Good." She stands. "Please wait here."

Takemi walks out of the office. Morgana's head pokes out from the bag. "How is this convincing her?"

"What'd you expect?" Akira whispers. "I've never had to convince someone to sell me medicine before!"

"But you're so confident in the Metaverse, why can't you put some of that charm to use out here?"

"What charm?" Akira asks. Then he shakes his head. "Never mind that. This was a bad idea. We've got to get out of here. I could get in a lot of trouble for this, and -" He shuts up as the door opens.

Takemi returns, a small vial of red liquid in her hand. "Here," she says, and hands it over to him.

"What is this?" Akira asks, as he takes the vial. He sniffs it and cringes. It's powerful, like citrus.

"Something I've been working on." Takemi leans against the room's desk. "I'm not going to just sell you medicine without getting anything in return. So, let's make a deal. I sell you medicine, and only medicine I deem safe for your use, and you help me with my little experiments."

Akira looks at the vial, then back up at the doctor. "You want me to drink this?"

"And you want me to sell you medicine."

"But what's in it?"

"It's something I'm developing. I want to see its effects on a regular body. You'll drink it, and I'll record the results."

"What's it going to do to me?"

"I don't know," Takemi says. "That's why I need to test it. How about it, guinea pig?"

"My name's Akira. Akira Kurusu."

"And my name's Tae Takemi. And if you want me to sell you that medicine, you'd better drink mine."

Akira steadies his hand, wets the inside of his mouth with his tongue, throws back the medicine and swallows.

#

Akira's head feels like it has been stepped on by a horse.

Several times.

The dull fluorescents above burn into his eyes. He groans, and throws his arm over his face to shield them.

" _That_ was interesting."

Doctor Takemi sits at the desk, a smile on her face. She's scribbling on the clipboard. Everything comes back to him in a rush.

"What happened?"

"Do you want specifics?" Takemi asks.

"Well, yeah."

"First, you ingested the medicine. Then you promptly passed out. Your heart rate, respiration, everything was normal. A few minutes passed, and then you woke up."

"I don't remember."

"That's probably for the best. You started yelling at your bag."

"My bag?" Akira looks down at it. _How long was I out? Morgana's been in there the whole time!_

"You referred to it as Morgana. You kept shouting, 'Shut up, Morgana! We've got to get to the castle!' over and over again. That went on for about another minute."

"Did, uh, the bag reply?"

Takemi looks flustered for a moment. Then she chuckles. "No. Fortunately, your bag didn't respond. You should apologize to it later though."

"Right, so I guess everything-"

"Hold on. I'm not done. Then you zeroed in on me for a while."

Akira gulps. "What do you mean?"

"For a solid five minutes or so, you kept referring to me as, 'Sexy Lady.' You tried to sing that song too. Your English is terrible, by the way."

Akira's cheeks are on fire. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm not. It was hilarious."

"Is, uh, that all?"

"Pretty much. After your attempted advances, you passed out again. This time for half an hour. And then you woke up."

Akira sighs, mortified. "My head hurts."

"That's to be expected. It should go away in a bit." She sets the clipboard down and withdraws a small slip of paper from her coat's pocket. "You upheld your end, so I'll do the same." She holds the paper out to him, and Akira takes it, careful not to touch her fingers. "That's a list of medicine I'll be comfortable selling to you, at a discount."

"I... thanks."

"It's mostly relaxants. Simple ones. Honestly, a lot of it's no stronger than aspirin. But, who knows? You help me out some more, and maybe I can sell you more."

"Wait, does that mean...?"

She grins, full and wide. "This is only a first test. I've got a couple more I need to run." She holds out her hand. "So, do we have a deal?"

Akira's throat tastes like ash. His head pounds. But, he has what he needs. He reaches out and shakes her hand. "Deal."

#

That night, Akira apologizes to Morgana for yelling at him while under the influence of Takemi's bizarre concoction. Then he texts the others.

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Dude! That's awesome! We're gonna kick this palace's ass!_

**_ANN_ ** _: Way to go, Akira!_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Thanks. How was the gun store?_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Freakin' rad!_

**_ANN_ ** _: Terrible._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: What're you talking about? You were psyched about that submachine gun you picked out!_

**_ANN_ ** _: Yeah, I was. But you're not allowed back there. EVER. AGAIN._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Why the hell not?_

**_ANN_ ** _: Because you kept asking weird questions._

**_ANN_ ** _: Like, 'How much damage will this one do?'_

**_ANN_ ** _: And, 'Do you think this will scare them enough?'_

**_ANN_ ** _: The guy thinks we're going to rob a bank or something!_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Did you tell him it's just for a castle?_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Relax, Ann. Guys like him always look suspicious. We got the guns, didn't we?_

**_ANN_ ** _: I guess that's true. We got you a pistol, Akira. I hope you're okay with it._

Morgana sets his paw on Akira's leg. "Ask them what they got me."

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Morgana wants to know what you picked out for him._

**_ANN_ ** _: Oh._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: He needs a gun too? But he's a cat._

Morgana's jaw drops. "Are they serious? They didn't get me anything?"

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Morgana does not approve._

**_ANN_ ** _: We're sorry Morgana! :(_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: I've got it! There's this slingshot in my room, from when I was a kid. He could use that!_

"A slingshot? Tell them that this is unacceptable! Tell them I demand more!"

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Morgana does not approve. Again._

**_ANN_ ** _: I feel really bad. I just assumed that Morgana could hold his own. He's the Metaverse expert after all._

Morgana reads this and recaptures some of his poise. "Lady Ann does make a good point. Fine. Tell Bonehead that I'll deign to use his childhood toy."

"Bonehead?" Akira asks.

"Y'know, because his name is Skull."

Akira smirks. "Heh. That's good."

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Morgana deigns to use the slingshot._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: It's a good slingshot..._

**_ANN_ ** _: So that settles it, yeah? We're going in tomorrow?_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: We are._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Alright! Kamoshida's Treasure is as good as ours!_

The chat wraps up, and Akira sets his phone on the desk in his room. Once back from Takemi's Morgana had insisted that he clean his room a bit, if only to make it more livable for him. It is still messy, but Morgana seems satisfied.

"Now then," the cat says. "I'm going to teach you how to make infiltration tools. It's a staple in a thief's arsenal and-"

Akira's phone rings. "Uh-huh," Akira says, and picks it up. "One sec."

_Probably Ryuji. Or Ann. Something they forgot to tell me about the gun shop._

He does not check the caller ID when he answers. "Hello?"

There is silence on the other line. Then a faint voice, says, "Akira?"

Akira sits and stares at the wall for ten seconds, before he is able to say, "Mom?"

#

"Just like your father."

His mother looks at him from across the dining room table. When she shakes her head, it is slow and sad.

"Just like your father."

"I'm not-" Akira begins, but he cannot finish. Nausea hits him. The aches return. His head hurts, but the pain is right behind his eyes, where he cannot get to it.

"Just like your father," his mother says.

"Come on," he says. He rests his head against the wood table. It is cold steel. "Come on, I've got this."

"Just like your father."

"Stop it."

"Just like your father."

"Shut up!"

"Excuse me?"

He sits up. The pulsing behind his eyes has lessened, but persists. Sae Niijima glares at him from across the table.

"I would suggest you mind yourself," she says.

Akira squeezes his eyes shut and tries to shake his head clear. "I thought you were my mother."

"There is no situation in which a woman wants to hear that, Kurusu. Least of all, this one."

"Sorry." He clenches his hands so his nails bite into his flesh. The pain helps him focus. "After we recruited Panther-"

"Let's stop for a moment," Sae cuts in. "So that you can reexamine your position. Do you think lying to me is your best course of action?"

"I'm _not_ lying."

"You just told me that an app on your phone allowed you to enter the collective human subconscious, and that you found a castle belonging to your gym teacher, and that a talking cat told you that if you stole the castle's treasure, it would make him an honest man."

"You know what happened."

"I know a man confessed to his crimes. I know the Phantom Thieves claimed responsibility. And that's all I know."

"I'm _not_ lying."

Sae regards him for a moment. "Very well. Tell me what happened next."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you're all having a lovely week. I feel like this is a good time to announce that I'll be taking a week off from posting either this coming week - the week of the 24th - or the following - the week of the 31st. I haven't decided on which yet. I'm actually really excited about Chapters 13 - 15 as they deviate from the game significantly (in my opinion). Please know, this DOES NOT mean that Crimson will disappear like so many fics before. I have an additional three weeks' worth of material already written. However, there's a lot happening in my personal life, and taking a break from posting for one week will allow me to maintain that buffer. Thank you for your understanding. I'll make a decision by Friday, but I'm presently leaning towards the break being on the week of the 31st.


	12. One Mask, Two Masks, Three Masks, Four...

4/17

Being Sunday, the four cannot meet up inside the school. Instead, they rendezvous across the street in the now familiar alley which opens toward Shujin.

Ryuji shows Akira the toy shotgun he purchased, having already given him the pistol they’d bought for him. "This is gonna be so freakin' sweet.”

Akira nods, a small smile on his face.

Ann crouches deeper in the alley, rifling through her bag with Morgana, making sure the medicine and food is secured. "Hey, Mona?"

"Yes, Lady Ann?"

"What's up with Akira?"

The cat hesitates before answering. "What'd you mean?"

"He's all, I don't know, _off_ today. Did something happen?"

Morgana checks to ensure the two boys aren't listening, then whispers, "He got a call from his mom last night."

"And?"

"Well, I don't think it was a good call."

"Oh."

"He answered, and then just took his phone and went outside. He got really pale when he realized it was her."

"Do you know what they were talking about?"

Morgana shakes his head. "When he got back, he apologized and got ready for bed. I wanted to ask him, but didn't want to pry."

"How'd he look? When he got back, I mean."

"Tired."

"Oh." Ann looks. Akira is more worn than she's seen him before. There are circles under his eyes Ryuji doesn't seem to notice. His hair is a mess, and not the stylized mess he typically sports, but an actual _mess_ mess. "Do you know what the deal is, with him and his family?"

"Actually," Mona says, guilt in his voice. "It never crossed my mind until last night. I thought about it while he was sleeping. I know about his record and everything, but he hasn't talked about that at all. I'm kind of in the dark."

"I see," Ann says. She starts to ask, "Do you thi-" but Ryuji turns and stalks over to the two.

"Are we doing this or what?" He rocks back and forth on his feet, boundless in energy.

Morgana looks past Ryuji and asks, "Ready, Joker?"

Akira stands at the mouth of the alley, staring at the school. He straightens when he hears his moniker, turns to the group, and says, "Yes."

#

"This is so cool."

"Quiet!"

"I know, I know. But still, this is so cool."

"It won't be cool if we get caught."

"Alright, my bad. Seriously though-"

"Skull, shut up!"

Panther flushes when the words leave her, and Joker holds up his hand to signal a halt. The four thieves pause, separated as they are atop the chandeliers, and peer at the shadows down below.

They are above the castle's main entrance, a grand hall with marbled columns and a wide stairwell leading up to a breathtakingly revolting portrait of Kamoshida. The room is thick with shadows, and the thieves had decided upon an alternate route.

Joker crouches on the gold grate of the chandelier. He balances by grasping the fixture's chain.

Below, a shadow stops and looks up. The hollow, black sockets of its mask scan the ceiling, but it fails to spot them. It continues on its little route around the hall, an automaton on a track.

Each thief breathes a sigh of relief. "Nice going, Panther," Skull whispers.

"Me? That was all your fault."

"Enough you two!" Mona says, waving his arms in the air. "Save it for when we're clear."

Joker nods, smiles, and jumps to the next chandelier. This thrills him. His body feels weightless and responsive, not bound by the small inconveniences of the real world. It does what he wants, how he wants.

He lands on the far balcony, crouches, and darts up to the corner leading to the next room. The others stack behind him. "Shadow?" Mona asks.

Joker nods.

"Should we try out the weapons?" asks Skull.

He draws the toy pistol from his jacket. There's a heft to it here absent in the real world. The plastic is harsher, nearly metal. The shine isn't juvenile, but aggressive. "Let's."

The others draw and Joker runs up behind the shadow, springs onto its back, wraps his free hand under its mask, and pulls. It rips away, and as Joker leaps clear, the shadow convulses and erupts into a globule of black slime. The slime contorts and sloughs away to reveal a charcoal armored knight astride a tall destrier. In its hand it holds a golden trident.

"Intruders!" It cries, but the four thieves surround it, weapons trained.

The shadow pulls on the reins and shifts its focus from one to another.

"Get wrecked!" Ryuji shouts and squeezes the trigger of his shotgun. A volley of bullets crash into the creature, puncture its armor and it quakes and falls to the ground with a groan. Its trident clangs against the tiled floor.

"Stop you knaves!" It tries to bellow but its voice is strained and labored.

Joker lowers his gun.

"Should we finish it off?" Panther asks.

Joker walks over to it, and the creature turns its helm towards him. He does not know why he is doing this. The world has dimmed, the voices of his friends are faint.

"Y-you are-" The creature chokes out but Joker interrupts.

"I am thou," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Thou art I," the creature says. The wounds vanish. It stands, and retakes the reins. It kneels, steals up the trident. "I am Berith."

It collapses into a point of blue flame, resolves itself into a copy of Joker's mask, and dashes across the space between them before latching itself onto the boy's face.

"A-Akira!" He hears Skull shout, codenames forgotten.

Electricity swims through his blood as he reels from what has happened. He feels heavier, as if he has inhaled too much air.

"Halt!" Comes a voice.

"Shit!" Skull cries.

A guard shadow charges them, sword held high. Joker steps forward and rips the mask from his face with a cry. "BERITH!"

The knight materializes into a charge and the guard halts just long enough for it to be lanced through by the golden trident. Berith rides him the rest of the room, slamming the guard into the wall. A low groan escapes its mask as it dissolves, and Berith returns to Joker's side at a trot, trident held upright smartly.

The three thieves stare.

"What the hell just happened?" Panther asks.

Skull looks down at Mona. "Did Joker just use that other shadow, against _that_ shadow?"

"I-I think so!" Mona runs up to him and begins to bounce in the air. "You can summon more than one Persona?"

Joker shrugs. "Can't we all?"

"No! Of course we can't! One person, one persona! That's the rule!"

"It's a rule?"

"W-well, I don't know for sure. But I can only call Zorro. Panther, Carmen. Skull, The Captain! But you just, I don't know, captured that shadow and turned it into a Persona!" Heavy, stomping footsteps echo from down the hall. Mona groans. "Come on, there's a safe room around here, I can feel it. We'll continue this talk inside."

When they are tucked into the small room, safe from the assault of shadows, Joker tells them how it felt. While he explains it, and the others debate its significance, he remembers something said to him in a dream.

_"Were you under the impression you could only wear one mask?"_

Was this what Igor had meant?

None of this feels strange to him. "Guys," he says, while the others converse. They stop and defer to his words. "We should keep going."

"Are you sure?" Mona asks. "We don't know what this means."

"But it's not a bad thing. If I can carry additional Personas, we have more abilities at our disposal."

"That's a good point," Panther says.

"Yeah, he really stuck it to that other shadow!" Skull puts in.

Mona nods. "Well then, let's keep going."

#

The deeper they go, the more he collects. Mask after mask. They fill his mind like bees.

"This is like Pokémon!" Skull shouts, pumping his fist into the air as Joker takes another.

"What's that?" Mona asks.

They continue.

The physics of the Metaverse become clear, even as they avoid any kind of sense. Room after room of Kamoshida's castle is filled with valuable looking knickknacks, and as they snatch and steal them, they find the things fall into their pockets and weigh as little as lint. Their costumes are their own little universes, capable of holding an almost infinite amount of material. The medicine, which Joker had worried would break with all the battling, is safe and secure within the little pouches on Mona's tool belt.

Some levels down they find the shrines. They are - of all places - built into a series of libraries. They are semi-circular in shape, hallowed in all else. Each holds dozens of candles, which illuminate the photographs on the wall in a smoky light. In the center of each is a homunculus construction, a photo lathered with what looks like saliva where the head should be.

One for each girl, it seems.

Panther finds Shiho's shrine, and cannot speak.

Skull finds Ann's, and decides to stay quiet about it.

Joker finds another, and the photographs are of a girl he knows well - by sight - at this point. Makoto Niijima, her eyes turned towards him shyly, her cheeks tint with red, her clothes shorn or in a state of deliberate undress. A dozen of these photos stare down at him.

They reconvene in the center of the library, each lost in their own world. "This is sick," Panther finally says. No one replies, but everyone agrees.

"Moths to flame."

They turn.

A guard shadow in golden armor lumbers into the library, arches its back and erupts.

A massive blot of black stretches into the air, and resolves itself into a fifteen-foot tall satyr, horns scratching the ceiling, tongue lolling down near its stomach, cloven hoofs stomping a slow, menacing beat. Its wrists end in furred hands which end in needled claws. "None can resist the temptations of King Kamoshida's harem!" Its voice is scratchy, but it booms. "My Lord knew you'd come through here! He permitted me the honor of breaking you!"

Skull holds his pipe in one hand, his shotgun in the other. "You'd better get out of our way!"

The beast's mouth opens and a song flies forth. A song. Musical notes made manifest, sharp as razor blades hurtle towards them.

"Scatter!" Mona shouts, and they fling themselves in different directions.

Joker pulls his pistol, feet still off the ground and fires a barrage at the satyr. The bullets puncture its pale red flesh, but the thing reacts without pain. He lands in a roll and comes to a rest behind a reading table, as notes splinter the wood.

"Zorro!" Mona, who crouches atop one of the stacks, calls. His Persona rises before him. "Garu!" A gust of wind slams into the satyr’s stomach, and it grunts before it turns and hurls itself at Mona's perch. The shelf of books smashes to pieces at the impact, and Mona goes cartwheeling through the air, a feline scream on his lips.

Panther circles and summons Carmen, and as the satyr picks itself up, a wreath of flame springs up across him. It laughs and the flames reverse and speed towards the girl. "W-what?" Panther asks, before the fire hits her in the face. She yelps in pain and flies back, landing on a table and sliding across it before finally crashing to the ground.

"Shit!" Skull dashes to her side. "Mona, get over here!" The cat limps along and approached the two. "You gotta heal her!"

Joker rises from his hiding place. "Arsene!" His Persona manifests above him, screeches and flings its tendrils at the satyr. The monster rolls, avoiding most but a few snake into its calves. It roars in reply, kicks itself free and charges for Joker.

"No you don't!" Skull shouts, as Mona hits Panther with a Dia.

He leaps up onto the table. "Fry em, Captain Kidd!" The buccaneer manifests, fires its weapon and a ball of electricity hits the attacker in the side. It screeches and hits the floor, a groan escapes it.

Mona's ears perk up. "That's it! It's weak to electricity!"

Joker shouts, "Skull!"

"On it!"

Both boys leap into the air and as they descend upon the slowly rising creature, Skull cries, "One more time, Cap'n!" while Joker calls forth, "Agathion!" The little blue devil trapped in a golden vase - another of Joker's acquisitions - spawns besides Captain Kidd. Both Personas screech and a series of electric strikes dance across the satyr’s back.

It _screams_ in pain, hurls itself up, and backs defensively against the nearest bookshelf.

"My turn." They turn and find Panther on her feet, hair disheveled but otherwise unharmed. She hurls out her whip and it lashes around the satyr’s feet, dragging them together. The monster tries to break free, but Panther grabs her weapon in both hands and pulls tight, teeth gritted. "Finish it!"

Joker charges. "Mona!"

"Right!" The cat darts alongside him, and they both fling themselves at the enemy. Joker punches his blade into the satyr’s chest as Mona's falchion finds its home alongside. The monster's head tilts back and its moan is high and worn.

"Skull!" Joker shouts.

"You got it!" Skull crosses the floor in a sprint, leaps into the air, and grips his pipe in both hands. "Take this, asshole!" He screams, and brings the pipe down into the center of the monster's face. Its breath catches, and then it dissolves into a pile of ash. Unbalanced, Mona and Joker pitch forward, the former landing in a pile of stuff, the latter into a flamboyant crouch.

Silence, save for heavy breathing.

Joker straightens, adjusts his gloves and asks, "Everyone okay?"

Panther groans and collapses across one of the still intact reading tables. "I'm pooped."

Mona rises, spitting ash out of his mouth. "I hate to say it, but that one took a lot out of me."

"The hell was that thing?" Skull asks, pulling a chair from one of the desks and dropping into it.

"It said something about Kamoshida's harem," Panther says, and props herself up on one elbow. "Talk about gross."

"Are you alright?" Joker asks her. "It reflected that fire back at you."

She beams. "Mona fixed me up, no problem."

Mona reaches a paw into one of his pouches. "Anyone need medicine?"

"I'm good," Skull says, and drops his head forward. "I'm kind of exhausted though."

Joker takes stock. They have gone far, but not far enough. Mona can 'sense' the treasure, and therefore knows it's still a long way off. They've already used some medicine, and Skull scarfed down most of the energy bars they'd brought. "We should go back," he says.

"For real?" Skull asks, straightening. "I can keep going!"

"Joker's right," Mona replies, and hops up onto Panther's table. "We don't want to risk running out of steam. We're all tired. If we keep going, we could get hurt or worse. We should head home, rest up, and come back soon. We've made enough progress today."

They all agree.

#

Akira drops the last of the castle's loot - a palm-sized golden bust of King Kamoshida - into the box and shoves it under his bed. "That's everything," he says, standing. He rolls his shoulders. "It's hell carrying all that crap."

"Too bad the real world doesn't work like the Metaverse," Morgana says, from where he lays on the bed.

Akira yawns. "I don't know. I'm okay with not having dodge shadows every time I want to use the bathroom."

"Guess you've got a point."

Akira sits on the bed, removes his glasses, rubs his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"We had a long day."

They'd been in the castle for _hours_. True, their escape had been easier, as they knew the route and had eliminated numerous shadows during their infiltration, but they'd still had to exercise caution. Once outside, a quick tap of the app had been enough to take them home. Everyone had split up, and Akira dragged himself home, made all the worse by the numerous bits of loot which had exited the Metaverse into his book bag, and Morgana, who had refused to walk.

"Hey, Akira?" Morgana asks.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"What'd you mean?"

"Last night," the cat says. "You got a call. You said-"

"I'm not ready to talk about that," Akira blurts. Morgana looks hurt. "Sorry." He reaches out, haltingly, and rubs Morgana's head. "But I'm not. It's..." He struggles to find the right words. "It's a whole thing."

"Okay."

Akira lays back on the bed.

"I think you need to sleep," Morgana says.

"I think you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for their well-wishes. I really appreciate it. Second, I've reached my decision. I will take a break from posting the week of the 31st. This means that I'll keep to my M-W-F schedule for this upcoming week. Thank you for taking the time to read Crimson, and I hope you continue to do so!


	13. Absent Minded

4/18

The winged retainer of the Lord spreads its arms wide. One hand grips a sword, the other is splayed in worship. "Repent," it cries, "if ever you hope to enjoy the splendors of His Kingdom!"

Bullets cascade up towards it, but collide harmlessly with an invisible barrier. The helmed servitor dips its head and regards Panther and Skull, weapons empty, in the center of the Chapel. "Such is the protection bestowed by Him."

Skull cracks a grin. "What's His stance on tridents?"

"BERITH!"

The golden, three-pronged weapon punches through the creature’s back, and it moans in pain.

Joker, from where he had hidden behind the altar, smiles. Berith vanishes, but the wound in the holy defender remains. It falls towards the ground and a buffeting wind slams into its side. Mona's Zorro swings its rapier, and the thing smashes into the pews below.

As one they swarm it. Blades, whip, and pipe bash into it and the creature rears its head up once more, and collapses into ash.

Skull sits a pew, breath coming hard. "Holy shit, dude. That was worse than that thing in the library."

"Mooona," Panther whines. "How much further until we find this stupid treasure?"

"I think we're halfway."

"Halfway?" Skull groans. "But, like, that means we've still got half to go!"

"We know what halfway means, Skull."

Joker snatches a chalice off the altar and slides it into his pocket. He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. There is an audible _pop_ as he does this.

"Hey," Skull says, as he looks from one thief to another. "Can we really do this?"

"Oh, come on," Joker says, turning back to them. A smirk is worn well across his face. "This wouldn't be fun if it was easy. Let's keep going."

They drag themselves to their feet and continue out of the chapel, deeper into Kamoshida's palace. Joker and Mona take the lead, while Panther and Skull hang back to watch the rear.

"Hey," Panther whispers, as their leader and their cat duck into a hall ahead of them. "Skull."

"What?"

"Have you noticed anything weird about Joker?"

"What'd you mean?"

Panther checks to ensure no enemies pursue, then says, "He acts so _different_ over here."

Skull cocks open his shotgun, reloads it, and snaps it closed. "You mean from how he is in the real world?" Panther nods. "Yeah, I've noticed that too. But that's probably because of the whole Persona thing, right?"

"But we have Personas and we don't act all that differently, between the real world and here."

They round the corner, and spy Mona and Joker ahead. The former waves them forward.

Panther sighs as they jog towards the two. "I guess I’m just wondering who he’s more like naturally. Joker or Akira.”

"Dude, I don't know," Skull says and glares at her. "And codenames, remember? Also, do you really think this is the time to be askin' these questions?"

"You're right. Sorry."

They battle their way further, and come to the base of a grand tower. Mona points skyward. "The Treasure is up there."

"All the way up there?" Skull asks, with a groan.

Exhausted, the four agree to return to the real world, their objective having still eluded them.

#

Makoto's hands sting. She ignores this. She throws another haymaker and the brutal _slap_ on her taped knuckles against the leather punching bag reverberates throughout the empty gymnasium.

The chrome workout machines are idle, the treadmills and ellipticals powered down, the air is chilled via conditioner and glances off her sweat-soaked body like little pins. Her breath is heavy but not labored. She knows how to do this. She is _very_ good at this.

A roundhouse kick, and Makoto feels it in her teeth. This is fine. If this bleeds off some of her anger, even better. She continues her barrage for a few more minutes, before she stops and snatches her water bottle off the ground.

She takes a swig, then looks to make sure no one else is present, before she drizzles a bit into her hair. It runs down her face and she shivers but it feels good. The last time she did this, an older man had been working out on an elliptical, and had whistled in a rather suggestive way. The memory adds fuel to her fire, and she sets the bottle back on the ground and returns her attention to the bag.

The bag she is imagining as Akira Kurusu.

The bastard stood her up. _Again_.

She had waited in the library after school, just as she'd said she would. After everything that had happened with Suzui, Makoto had been looking forward to delving into topics she understood. The familiarity of the subjects brought a sense of clarity to her, one she desperately needed.

Only, he had never shown up. She sat in the library, waiting, unable to believe he would have the  _UNEQUIVOCAL NERVE_ to do this again.

She had waited, and waited, and waited. Then she had packed up her bags, left the school, returned home, changed into her workout clothes, and taken the elevator down to her apartment complex's basement gym.

Now, she throws the heel of her foot into the center of the bag. The force is too great, and her balance falters. She waves her arms in the air, like an unstable penguin, but fails to regain it and drops onto the mat.

She sighs, sprawls out spread-eagle and stares at the fluorescent lights above. _Why am I so mad?_ Kurusu is just another delinquent, like that Sakamoto. Hell, the two had become fast friends apparently. If he didn't respect her time, why should she even care? This actually worked out. If she didn't have to tutor him, then she could return her attention to the things that mattered.

 _The things that matter_.

She sees Shiho Suzui's broken body on the courtyard's grass. Sees Ann Takamaki knelt next to her friend, beyond distraught. She sees herself, Student Council President, at the edge of the gawking crowd, struck still in horror.

 _I couldn't do anything_.

She shuts her eyes. She will not think about that scene. Nor what it says about her. She pushes it aside, and refocuses. _Akira Kurusu_.

After what had happened the previous week, she would've thought he would honor his word to be at their study session. _And I'd been looking forward to it too..._

She clenches her hands and gets up. Best not to dwell on that. Best to move on. She hits the bag for a few more minutes, then returns upstairs.

When Sae comes home, she sits at the dinner table and thanks Makoto for the food. Makoto smiles and waits for more, but her big sister gives nothing.

"Hey, Sis?" Makoto asks, once the meal is done, as she brings the plates to the sink.

"Hm?" Sae stares at her black bag, which she dumped on the couch upon returning home. Her face is scrunched up, like she's tasted something too bitter.

Makoto puts the plates in the sink and turns on the water. She tries to find the right words. "Can you-"

Sae stands. "Sorry, but I can't stay. I need to get back to the office."

Makoto turns, and water drips from her hands onto the floor. "But you just got home."

"There's a case that needs my attention," Sae says. She retreats to her room, and returns a few moments later with some fresh clothes. She opens her bag, shoves them inside, and heads for the door. "Goodnight." She opens the door and steps out into the hall.

"Goodnight," Makoto says, as the door shuts.

She stands in the kitchen for a time. Then, she turns back to the dishes. She needs a focal point, something to divert herself to. _Akira Kurusu_ , she decides. She will speak to him tomorrow. She scrubs the dishes with a bit more vigor than normal.

#

When Akira sits up in bed that night, eyes wide, and the words, "Oh shit!" escaping into the air, it is enough to spook Morgana off his comfy spot and onto the hardwood floor.

"Wh-what?" Morgana asks, rolling to his feet. "What's happening?"

Akira looks down at the cat. Even in the dark, Morgana can see the whites of his eyes. "I forgot to study with Niijima-senpai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the shortest chapter so far, but Wednesday's is the longest. Hope you all have a good Monday. Thanks for reading!


	14. Long to Build...

4/19

"Wait, for real?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods. "I have to study." His tone is solemn and quiet. He stares at the courtyard's fresh-cut grass. It is lunchtime, and the thieves huddle alone on the crosswalk.

Ann giggles and smacks Akira's shoulder. "Oh, come on. Stop messing around."

Morgana pops his head out from Akira's bag. "It's not a joke." His voice quivers. "He has to study."

Ann glances at Ryuji, who shrugs. "But what about-"

"I'm sorry," Akira whispers. "There's no other way. Niijima-senpai was _insistent_."

She had cornered him in the hall shortly after his arrival that morning. He had known from the storm in her eyes, just how screwed he was. His bows had been deep. His apologies, desperate. He cannot even recall what he said. Some nonsense revolving around his probation, a Sojiro-enforced curfew, and plain old loss of time.

She had not been mollified.

She had not been convinced.

"Kurusu-kun," she had said, her voice dangerously pleasant.

He had kept his upper body rigid, parallel to the floor, held in a bow. His heart had raced. "Y-yes?" He’d asked, even as he felt the conflicting smile curl its way onto his face.

"We'll meet today, after school. In the library. We will meet every day this week, after school. In the library. This is your last chance. Do you know what will happen if you do not show up?"

He had lifted his head, so he could see her. "What?"

Her stare scorched him. "Use your imagination." She'd spun on her heel and calmly walked off.

Ryuji and Ann listen to this tale. The latter rolls her eyes. "Oh, give me a break. You're telling me you can't stand up to the Student Council President?"

Ryuji rests a hand on Akira's shoulder, bows his head and says, "I understand."

Ann's eyes widen. "You too, Ryuji?"

"Niijima-senpai can be intense," Akira says.

"But what about the Palace? You two are getting expelled soon, aren't you?"

Morgana shakes his head. "If Akira makes Makoto mad… well, _madder_ , it might result in even more trouble. If she gets suspicious about us, it could draw attention. I know it stinks, but it'd be best if we go along with this for now. We'll still have the weekend. We're getting close to the Treasure. It won’t be much longer."

Ann crosses her arms and pouts. "Fine. I still don't like it."

"I don’t either," Morgana says. "But we don’t really have a choice."

Ryuji shakes his head. "Still, it's gonna suck for you, dude. Stuck in the library with Makoto Niijima? With her grillin' you on all that school stuff?"

Akira fights the smile from his face. "I'll manage."

#

Makoto stands outside the library. Her hands smooth her skirt, straighten her black halter vest, pat down her hair. She does not notice she does these things, because her mind is consumed with one overriding thought.

_If he's not in here..._

She opens the door.

Akira Kurusu sits at the table nearest the circulation desk. He looks up when she enters. There's a strange look on his face. His gaze is more intense than it should be, his lips are pursed, and his skin is a touch flushed. He looks expectant, like someone waiting for an inevitable word to be said. Or hammer to fall.

"I admit," Makoto says, as she deposits her bag on the table. She reaches inside and begins to withdraw the borrowed books. "I didn’t expect you to be here."

"I have a vivid imagination."

Makoto can't help her smirk. Kurusu returns it. She sits. "Well then, we should begin."

His smile fades. He dips his head. His posture retreats. "Niijima-senpai?"

She blinks. "Yes?"

"I want to apologize. I never meant to waste your time. Honestly, the first time, I figured you wouldn't even show up."

 _What is this?_ She had walked in here expecting either a vacant chair or an aloof defiance. But, the look on his face seems earnest. It's kicked her feet out from under her. She shifts in her seat, and tries to keep her pose infused with power she no longer feels. _What is with this guy?_ How can a few sentences throw her like this?

"Why would you think that?" She asks, to buy herself time.

He looks at her. His smile is small and sad. "Just a feeling, I guess."

She cannot meet his eyes, because when she does, she recalls how she felt when he'd taken his glasses off in the faculty office, but that was only because she had been tired because the rumor mill had churned the whole day before and its potentialities had kept her up at night and it didn't have anything to do with anything really except then she'd given him those stern admonishments and he had looked almost excited and she had _felt_ excited but he's sitting across from her now and he's humble and apologetic so was it possible she had imagined the whole thing and Akira Kurusu is just a regular student with a regular personality but then where had the rumors come from and she'd heard he'd been in some kind of conflict with Kamoshida and he hung with Ryuji Sakamoto so there had to be some truth to what's been said about him and why did all of this stuff have to pop into her mind just because he looked at her and _what is up with this guy?_

 _Calm down_ , she thinks. _Maybe he's playing you. What do I know about him for sure? He's got a record. He's friends with Sakamoto. He's ditched me in the past. Maybe this is a way for him to get under my skin_. She wills herself to settle. She returns a polite smile. _Not gonna happen._

"We'll begin with calculus, Kurusu-kun."

He blanches.

#

Makoto is not gentle. "Well?" She asks.

 _How? How has she maintained this level of intensity for this long?_ His brain feels like someone took to it with a lawn mower. His eyes ache from the beady text of his books. His hand is cramped from writing equations.

"It would be," he mumbles, "a preposition?"

"You sound unsure."

"A preposition," Akira blurts. "It's definitely a preposition."

Makoto leans back in her chair, a self-satisfied smile on her face. "Very good."

Akira resists the urge to collapse onto his books. "Thank you."

Makoto glances away and frowns. "That's enough for today. I think we may have stayed a little longer than necessary."

Akira turns in his chair. They are the only two in the library. The sky outside bleeds into sunset. "Oh wow, I didn't even notice," he says.

Makoto slides her chair back and stands, her movements pristine, almost rehearsed. "You did well today," she says, and stares down at him, her gaze unyielding.

 _This is my punishment for ditching her_. "Thanks." He packs his books and pulls out his phone. Ann had offered to take Morgana today, much to the cat's delight, so he sends her a message that the session is over.

"Shall we?" Makoto asks, once they're ready.

Akira follows her out the door.

The hall is empty. They walk. Their twin sets of footsteps echo off the floorboards. They are side by side, Akira with his hands in his pockets, Makoto with hers tight around the straps of her bag.

They walk.

Akira, grateful for the quiet, lets fatigue seep into him. Were his wits intact, he might have noticed the nervous look on Makoto's face as they descended the steps to the second floor.

"It's kind of unnerving," Makoto says, her words quick and tumbling. "The school, I mean. What with everyone gone and all."

Akira shrugs. "I like it," he slurs. "No one's talking about me."

Makoto's footsteps stop. Akira’s continue. A few moments pass before she catches up to him. She says nothing else until they reach the front gate. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Sure." His smile is heavy. "Goodnight, Niijima-senpai. And thanks."

 

4/20

Akira sits in the library. His books are arranged. His pen is held steady in his hand. He is hydrated, well-fed, and ready to go.

Makoto is late.

 _I could probably give her a hard time about this._ Given how big of a deal she'd made about him wasting her time, it would be poetic in a way. _Actually, that’s probably a bad idea._

Her absence gave him the opportunity to return _'The Biology of Shrimp_. _’_ He had never even opened it. Morgana, who thankfully had gone for a walk around the neighborhood today, had given him grief unending on account of that book.

The door slides open and Makoto steps inside. Her manner is still precise, but she looks harried. Her steps to the table are quick, and when she slings her bag onto the wood, it plops with a dull _thump_.

"I'm sorry," she says, nodding to him. Akira takes her in. She looks disheveled, but he'll be damned if he can figure out why. _She doesn't look like an ice queen today. Too bad._ He frowns. _Wait, why 'too bad?_ '

"You okay?" He asks her.

"Student Council duties, I'm afraid. I-" but then her bag spills and the contents scatter onto the floor. Makoto releases a single, tired groan and kneels down to retrieve her items.

"Let me help," Akira says, and slides from his chair. He notices two things among the books and paperwork. A weathered, white pencil case covered in black spots and tipped by a cute animal’s face, and a colorful looking novel. He reaches for the book first.

The cover depicts a man with sandy brown hair, his back to the reader, standing astride a gondola. His craft looks to be gently traversing the sea-green canals of a grand medieval city, filled with towering ivory citadels of red steeples draped in purple banners. When he looks closer, he sees the man's head is turned toward the reader, and he gifts them a small, knowing smirk. He reads the title aloud, "‘ _The Lies of Locke Lamora_?’"

Makoto squeaks, which is impossible because Akira cannot believe this girl capable of such a sound, and snatches the book from his hands. He looks up at her. Her face is bright red, and her eyes are averted into a corner. She clutches the book to her chest like a lost heirloom. She appears to have shrunken in on herself.

Akira's eyes go wide. A single word crosses his mind in a dim, watery wave.

 _Cute_.

Makoto Niijima is really cute.

"Uh, sorry," he says, and spreads his hands in surrender.

Makoto gathers up the remainder of her items and shoves them, in a very non-Makoto way, back into her bag. "It's fine," she says. "I didn't mean to... it's fine."

"What's it about?" Akira asks, and returns to his seat.

She finally meets his eyes. "Huh?"

"The book, it looks interesting. What's it about?"

She swallows. She _actually_ swallows. _I can't take much more of this!_

"Um, we should start," she says, and points to his books. "History. We'll start with history today."

"Okay," Akira replies. He looks back at his material. "We're covering the rule of Nobunaga."

Makoto pulls out a history text and sets it on the table. Then, she sits and flips the book open. She uses her index finger to scan the page until she finds an appropriate starting point. She does this while avoiding Akira's eyes.

"Thieves," she whispers.

Akira looks up. "Sorry?"

"The book," she says. "It's about thieves."

"Seriously?"

She fixes him with her gaze, eyes aflame. She opens her mouth, but Akira shakes his head and throws up his hands. "No, no. You've got it wrong. I just meant that it sounds cool."

Makoto frowns, then looks down at the text. She fidgets in her seat. "It is. I borrowed it from here, actually."

"Oh, okay. Maybe I'll check it out once you're done with it."

She nods. "So, tell me what you know about Oda Nobunaga."

#

Despite herself, Makoto's hands clench tighter and tighter.

"You don't really think he's studying, do you?"

"The Prez is wasting her time."

"I heard someone tried to mug _him_ the other day, and he stabbed him."

The library has always been something of a noisy place. Whispers can be just as distracting as explosions in the right context. Still, she typically manages to shut them out.

Kurusu is having a visibly harder time doing this. She can only control his attention so much. The gossip leaches into him. His work gets sloppy.

"I heard one of the teachers asked him a simple question - one any first year should get - and he totally bombed it."

"He's in a big fight with Kamoshida. He was hitting on Takamaki, and everyone knows she's Kamoshida's."

"There's no way he's going to get a good grade on his exams, so why's he even trying?"

Makoto stands. Kurusu looks up, a bit of life returning to his eyes, and tracks her. She marches over to the nearest table, where three second-years sit with their heads dipped together. She puts as much authority as she can behind her words. "If you refuse to use the library for its intended purpose, I'll have to ask you to leave." She cuts her gaze across the faces of all the students. "That goes for everyone."

Some stand and shuffle out, red-faced and crestfallen. Some shut their mouths and return to studying. Some pretend they weren't participants, and nod their heads with feigned superiority. The rumors do not start up again.

Makoto returns to her seat. Kurusu does not look any better. If anything, he looks more tattered. _Was that a mistake? Should I have left it alone?_ She frowns. This whole study session has been a disaster. First, she had entered the room all flustered. Then, she'd completely lost her cool when he'd spied her book. Now, she had just embarrassed him further.

 _If those others had just kept their mouths shut, this wouldn't have happened_. Akira Kurusu may have a criminal record. But he was still a student. She wasn't Student Council President for nothing. He deserved help. _And I'm going to help you._

"Are you alright?" She asks.

Kurusu says nothing for a time, and then he points to a problem in the textbook. "How would I do this one?"

#

Kurusu doesn't improve. Makoto has never seen anything like it. He hears the instructions, mouths the answers, writes the formulas, but it's all rote. Robotic.

At a loss, Makoto ends the session earlier than yesterday, and walks him to the front gate once more. _How can I help him?_ She's stricken by the need to _do_ something for Kurusu, to let him know he's... what?

It is only when they are outside that life returns to him.

"Yo!"

Makoto looks down the front steps and sees Ryuji Sakamoto leaning against the gate's pillar. He throws up his fingers in a mock-salute and saunters his way up to them.

"What're you doing here, Sakamoto-kun?" Makoto asks. She adds an edge to her voice.

Sakamoto frowns. "What'cha mean? I'm waiting for this guy." He throws an arm around Kurusu's shoulder and continues, "Dude, I'm starving. Bet you are too, after all that studying. Let's grab some ramen. Also, I kinda need to talk to you about something."

Makoto does not like this last bit. She is about to say something when she sees Kurusu's face. He is beaming. "Let's do it," he says. He looks at Makoto and asks, "Want to come with?"

Both Makoto and Sakamoto say, "Huh?" Her thoughts plow ahead at the implication of his question, but her mouth acts on its own and she says, "Thank you, but I can't. I live with my older sister, and she'll be expecting me later."

Kurusu shrugs. He does not look disappointed, and this disappoints Makoto. "Oh, okay. See you later then." He jabs Sakamoto gently in the gut and says, "Lead the way."

Sakamoto smirks. "Right on." They descend the steps toward the road.

 _Why did I say that?_ Makoto pulls out her phone and rereads the text she'd received earlier from Sae.

 **_SAE_ ** _: Won't be home tonight._

Why had she lied?

A single rebellious impulse grips her. She looks up and opens her mouth, but the two boys are already out the gate and gone.

Makoto stands in Shujin's entrance, alone. She is suddenly very tired. She steps aside and leans against the doorframe. _Focus_. She will not let her emotions cloud her. She needs to be strong. _Akira Kurusu_. She ignores every conflicting feeling that name conjures up, and instead zeroes in on one hard truth. _He needs a better influence than Ryuji Sakamoto_. Kawakami-sensei had asked her to help him adjust to life at Shujin. He never will if he continues to pal around with Sakamoto.

A thin trickle of guilt bleeds through her like lead in her veins, but she ignores it. She has work to do.

#

"Training?" Akira asks, once he's slurped up his ramen.

Ryuji does not wait and says, over the noodles in his mouth, "Mmmhmm." He scarfs more down, pats his stomach with a satisfied sigh and says, "You know how we can, like, jump high and stuff and beat the shit out of shadows over there?"

Akira thinks of effortlessly negotiating the chandeliers. "Yeah."

"Well, it got me thinking. If we get stronger over here, maybe we'd be even stronger over there." He looks down into his empty bowl, and his voice drops a few degrees. "Ever since my leg healed, I haven't been training. I wasn't on the track team anymore, so I didn't have a reason to."

Akira smiles. "But now you do."

Ryuji looks up, grins and says, "Hell yeah, I do. So listen, I want to put together a training plan for us. Running, weights, all that shit. Ann's lazy as hell, but we can probably trick her into participating somehow. Maybe we can tell her it's for her modeling career or something."

Akira chuckles. "Ann wants to be a model?"

"Uh, no dude. Ann _is_ a model."

"Seriously?"

"Did you not know that?"

"I didn't." Akira thinks about this. "Well, she's beautiful, so I guess it makes sense. I just don't picture her as a model."

"Well shit, dude. There's probably some fashion magazines we could pick up at the subway station. I think she has a new spread out in one of them."

Akira arches a brow. "How do you know so much about it?"

"No reason," Ryuji says, a hitch in his voice.

"Uh-huh."

Ryuji groans. "Don't get on my case, man. And Ann's modeling isn't the point! Are you in on this training thing or not?"

"Are you going to make Morgana participate?"

Ryuji frowns. "I don't know how to make a workout plan for a cat, but I guess I can try."

Akira nods. "I think it makes sense. If our strength in the Metaverse is amplified, then the more endurance and strength we have in the real world, the more we'll have over there."

"That's the idea." Ryuji pulls out his cell. "So, tonight, be sure to text me your details."

"What details?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Come on, dude! If I'm gonna put this together, I need your information. Height and weight for starters, but I'll also need your body-mass index, daily caloric intake, rep sets you've done in the past-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Akira says, patting the air with his hands. "I don't know those things."

"You don't?"

"No, and I'm pretty sure Ann's not going to appreciate you asking her for her weight either."

"Yeah..." Ryuji says, his voice trailing off. "That's true. Alright, well for now, just find those things out and send them to me. I'll put together something for just the two of us. Then we can rope Ann and the cat in together."

Akira shakes his head, says, "Okay," and finishes his meal.

 

4/21

"Like this, right?" He turns the page around and pushes it towards Makoto.

She scans it and smiles. "Yes. Very good." She brings her pencil to the page and begins to scribble. "But, there's a shortcut you could've taken." With a dim _snap_ the lead breaks, and she frowns. "Hold on."

She reaches into her bag and pulls out the battered pencil case. Its childlike and animal design seems somewhat familiar to Akira. The plastic is weathered, but when Makoto opens it, there's a batch of fresh writing utensils inside.

"What's the deal with that?" He asks.

"Hmm?" Makoto withdraws a new pencil and shuts it. “What do you mean?"

"It looks kind of old. Shouldn't you get a new one?"

"You should talk. You don't even have one." She smiles as she says this.

Akira can't help himself. "That's because I use pockets. Like a normal person."

Her eyes narrow a fraction. "Are you making fun of me? Because if you are..."

His pulse quickens. He feels his face flush. Keeping the smile off his lips proves difficult. "I just thought you could use a new one. That's all."

"I happen to like it. It's from a show I watched as a child. Buchimaru-kun."

"Okay."

She looks down at it. "Though, I suppose it's a bit worn."

"So why not get a new one?"

“Unfortunately, according my research, they no longer produce Buchi merchandise.” She looks genuinely sad as she says this.

“You actually researched that?”

Her head shoots up. "You _are_ making fun of me."

"I am not. It's just interesting."

"Interesting?"

He nods.

Makoto sets her pencil down and folds her hands across her textbook. "Would you like to learn something else, interesting, about me?"

Akira leans in. "I would."

"I'm well trained in aikido, boxing, and karate."

"Are you saying you'll hurt me if I continue down this path?"

Her eyes widen. "Of course not, Kurusu-kun. If anything were to happen to you, it would look like an accident."

Akira's heart hammers in his chest. He can't help himself, and laughs.

Makoto's lip slide into a small smile, and she begins to giggle.

Then they notice that every student in the library is watching them.

Akira's laughter deteriorates into choked coughs. Makoto sucks in her lips, shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I suppose we should get back to it."

"R-right," he says.

His phone buzzes.

Akira checks it.

 **_TAKEMI_ ** _: Are you busy today? I've got another trial I'd like to run._

Akira swallows. _Uh-oh._ He keeps himself calm. This is for the good of the team, after all.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: I'm studying right now. Can I come by later?_

 **_TAKEMI_ ** _: Yes._

Akira frowns, and sends an additional message.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: Will I pass out again?_

 **_TAKEMI_ ** _: Probably._

#

Makoto wraps up the session early. Kurusu displayed a good deal of retention, and she's confident he'll score well on his next exams. _He's come a long way in just three days_. When they step out of the library, Kurusu pauses near the door, and Makoto realizes he's actually waiting for her.

"Oh," she says. "I actually have additional business in the Student Council room." Business relating directly to Akira Kurusu, as a matter of fact.

"Where's that?" He asks.

Makoto inclines her head towards the door next to them. "Right here."

"Convenient."

"Very."

They stand together, silent.

"So," she blurts out. "Will you be going somewhere with Sakamoto-kun today?"

When he shakes his head, she feels a weight lift off her chest. "No. He had to help his mom with something. Besides, I've kind of got a doctor's appointment."

"You're not sick, I hope."

"I'm not, but ask me again in a few hours."

"I'm sorry?"

He chuckles. "Nothing. Never mind. I'll see you later, Niijima-senpai."

"Goodnight." He heads off down the hall, and Makoto turns towards the Student Council room.

#

Takemi stares at Akira. The boy's hands return to his face, grasping at some phantom object. Then, he rips whatever he thinks it is away and shouts, "Persona!" He does it again, and cries, "Arsene!" Once more, and, "Ravage them!"

 _This is interesting_. Akira's litany is now in its tenth minute. After ingesting her latest medicinal iteration, he had passed out for a quarter of an hour. Then he'd sat up, groped for his imaginary _something_ and proceeded to pull it off, again and again.

Amusing as it is, something about Akira bothers her. She slides out of her chair, approaches him, and leans in, careful to stay outside the persistent range of his hands. His eyes are glazed and see nothing. She smiles. _I wonder how badly he'd blush if he knew I was this close to him._ Then she sees it. A slight discoloration around his brows, cheeks, and jawline. Gingerly, she snakes her own fingers between his hands and prods. The skin is tender. "How's that possible?" She asks aloud. When had he been in last? The sixteenth, wasn't it? It's only the twenty-first.

 _Five days_. Six, if she counts the night of the sixteenth. So, five days and a night then. In that time, Akira Kurusu had suffered some serious bruising to his face. And in that time, they had healed. Almost completely. No doubt most would never notice it, but she's a professional. Identifying the evidence of past trauma is child's play for her.

Still.

For a bruise, or rather, series of bruises to heal in that short a period of time? It's possible, sure, but unlikely. Akira's words are beginning to garble together. His movements are becoming lackadaisical, his posture is slumping.

He pulls whatever he thinks is on his face away one more time, and mumbles, "Arseee-" and drops onto his side.

His breathing is steady and quiet. He could be taking an afternoon nap. She takes one of his hands in both of hers. _Yep. It's here too_. The too-pale, yellowish tint. The barely detectable watery squish of his skin when she pokes it.

She sets his hand down, and runs her fingers into his hair. There's so damn much of it that she cannot see the skin, but she can feel it. "God," she whispers.

Akira Kurusu is a walking bruise.

"How the hell did you get all of these?" She asks. He does not reply.

There's a phone in the main office. She'll call the police. She has to call the police. Akira Kurusu is being abused. By whom, she does not know. She cannot imagine Sojiro Sakura doing something like this. Takemi moves to the door. Her hand pauses on the knob.

She can hear the questions. _What was he doing here? Why is there no record of his appointment? Did he consent to an examination? Is he taking any medicine or drugs?_

Her hand falls to her side. The only sound is Akira's soft, slow breathing. Her mouth is dry paper and all she can see is a small girl, coughing her lungs out in a hospital bed. _"I'll be okay. Right, Doctor Takemi?"_

"Fuck," she says.

When Akira wakes, she cannot meet his eyes. He smacks his lips a few times and says, "Tastes like sand."

"Well," she mumbles, unable to keep her mouth shut. "The worse it tastes, the better it works."

"I doubt that."

"No," she says, her gaze solely focused on the empty white space of the clipboard's paper. "It's true. It was the topic of my thesis back in med school." _Stop it,_ she thinks. _Stop trying to be funny. This isn't._

"I honestly can't tell if you're lying," Akira says with a smile. "Did I say anything this time?"

 _A little too much_. "No," she replies. "Just nonsense."

"You okay?"

"Hmm?" She asks, and plasters one of her more seductive smiles across her face. "I'm fine. Worried about me, are you?"

Akira fidgets and his cheeks turn red. "Just, uh, just asking." He hops off the table, steadies himself and asks, "Are we all done for today?"

She nods. "We are."

"Okay," he replies. He leans over and picks his bag up off the floor. "I guess I'll see you next time." He walks to the exam room's door and grips the knob in his hand.

"Be careful," she says.

He looks back at her. "What'd you mean?"

"Nothing," she replies, nauseous. "Just, you know, be careful. World's a dangerous place and all."

"Don't I know it," he says, and then he's out the door and gone.

#

He finds Morgana outside a second-hand store down the block, tail swishing side to side. "What're you doing?" Akira asks.

The cat prods the air with his paw, in an approximation of a point. "There's an old television in there. Only two hundred yen!"

Akira kneels down and holds out his arm. Morgana scuttles up to his shoulder, and drops down into his bag. "So?"

"So? You've got no TV in your room. We should spring for it."

"Why do we need a TV?" He looks into the store. It’s filled with dozens of odds and ends, all cluttered together like someone's overstuffed storage unit.

A dusty knickknack catches his eye, shoved as it is behind a litter of children's merchandise.

"Are you listening to me?" Morgana asks.

"Nope," Akira says and steps inside. The cat yowls in annoyance and Akira smiles. "Relax, I'm kidding. Money's kind of tight now though."

The owner of the shop is nowhere to be seen. Akira weaves his way past the junk and approaches what he saw. “No way.”

It's a Buchimaru pencil case. He lifts it off the shelf and turns it over in his hands. A thin film of dust coats it, but little else is wrong. _I'll have to tell Niijima-senpai_. She'd be thrilled. The thought brings a smile to his face, even as Morgana nudges the back of his head.

"What're you looking at that thing for?"

"No reason," Akira says, and checks the price. Naturally, it's dirt cheap. He regards it for another moment, and then sets it back on the shelf. They're only study buddies. No reason to complicate things with gifts. He straightens his uniform and leaves the store as quick as decorum allows, red faced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a reminder, I'll be going on a brief hiatus next week. That means after Friday's chapter, you won't see me until August 7th. Barring some disaster the story will pick right back up then. I want to thank everyone for reading, commenting, and apparently telling others about Crimson. It makes my day again and again. Also, an aside, 'The Lies of Locke Lamora' is a real book by Scott Lynch. It's very good, and if you're a fan of Persona 5 (and why wouldn't you be, if you're reading this?) then you should do yourself a favor and check it out. See you all on Friday!


	15. ...Seconds to Break

4/22

Makoto stares at her books. Her body is still, but her mind repeats a single phrase, again and again. _Just do it already_.

"Are you okay?"

She looks up and across the table at Kurusu. He leans over his work, a frown on his face.

"I'm sorry?"

He taps his work with his pen's point. "I've made six mistakes and you haven’t heavily implied my life is danger." He smiles. "So, are you okay?"

She sighs and sets her pencil in the spine of the text. There's nothing for it but to push ahead. She looks him in the eye. "There's something I want to say."

Akira pales.

"I want to apologize."

He blinks. "For... what?"

The room is quiet. Her warning to the students the other day has maintained its hold. From what Makoto can see, no one pays them any attention. "I never looked up your information online. I know it's there. People were talking about it."

"I noticed."

She cringes at his tone. "But, I never looked. Nonetheless, I may have… no, I _did_ indulge in the rumors surrounding you a bit."

He says nothing.

"I thought you would be different from who you are."

She looks at him, intent on continuing, but her words spring a response. "Who did you think I'd be?"

She sighs. "I don't know. Just, someone different. I'm sorry." _This is it_. She straightens. "That's why, I want to propose something." He waits, his eyes a bit wide, lips pursed. "I would like you to join - in an auxiliary role - the Student Council."

Kurusu stares at her, his face unchanged. Then, a strangled laugh escapes him. Then another. A grin cracks his face and he says, "Wait, seriously?"

She feels her cheeks redden. "I think it would benefit you. You'd be around other students who could get to know you, like I have. They're diligent. Hard-working. Joining would help you contribute to the school."

His mirth lessens. He still smiles, but the laughter stops.

Before she can stop herself, or think about what to say, more words spill from her like a burst pipe. "I think it’d be good for you to be around people like that. Some distance from troublemakers like Sakamoto would go a long way towards convincing the student body you belong here." The more she speaks, the more his face falls. Where in his eyes there had been amusement, now is something else. She cannot stop, though she feels like she’s sprinting through a minefield. "I just don't want you to go down the same path he did." She pats the books. "You're _really_ smart when you apply yourself. You could make something of yourself here. I just think you should consider it, is all."

He tilts his head forward. Light reflects off his glasses’ lenses, and she can no longer see his eyes. Without a word, he takes one of his textbooks and puts it in his bag.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

He takes another, and puts it in his bag.

"What's wrong?"

He takes another, and puts it in his bag.

"Kurusu-kun?"

He takes his last book, puts it in his bag, and stands.

"Wait," she says, as he walks for the exit.

Some part of her does not believe he will leave, but he wraps pale fingers around the door's handle, slides it open, and steps out.

Makoto does not bother to pack her books. She shoots out of her chair and follows as fast she dares.

It is late. There are no other students in the hall. Most have gone home, or are busy with club activities. Akira Kurusu, therefore, shuffles in his hunched gait towards the stairwell, alone.

"Kurusu-kun, wait." She follows.

He does not turn around.

"Please!"

He does not turn around.

 _What is this? What's going on? What did I say?_ "Akira Kurusu, stop."

He stops. He does not turn around. His head angles upward as if he has a sudden interest in the ceiling. When he speaks, his words are deflated and tired. "I don't know why," he says. "But I really wanted you to be different."

He turns around.

Gone is the vacant indifference. Gone is flirty smile. Gone is the respectful schoolboy.

Akira Kurusu is something else now. His posture is no longer slouched, but jagged. His eyes are terrible.

"You want me to _contribute_ to this place?" Vitriolic. "This place, where everyone thinks I'm trash?"

Makoto blurts out a response. "I think that-"

Kurusu cuts her off. "What do you think I did?"

"What?"

"You've heard the rumors. I know you didn't look up my record, thanks so much for that, by the way. So, what do you think I did?"

"I," she starts, then stops. How is she supposed to answer this? "I heard that you assaulted-"

"Assaulted someone, right," Kurusu says. "What if I told you that every word of that was a lie? What if I said my record was fabricated? Would you believe it?"

Makoto walks forward, intending to cut off his advance to the stairwell, but his question halts her. They stand, face to face, backs to the walls of the hall. "Well," she begins, but cannot continue. What does he expect? Why wouldn’t she believe the official story?

He throws his hands in the air. "More the fool, me."

"I just-"

"Do you think I haven't heard? I _know_ what people think of me. And not just the students. I know what the teachers think too. And you want me to join the Student Council? To contribute to this place? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No! I don't think-"

"The _only_ reason I was accepted at Shujin was so they could hold me up as an example. Look how kind we are! We're willing to give a delinquent another chance! We're so generous, progressive, forward-thinking."

Makoto can feel her blood swirling through her. "Please, just-"

"No. I'm not going to calm down, Makoto." Her name is a knife in her gut. "Isn't that why Kawakami assigned you to me? Isn't the only reason you're helping me because they told you to?" A speculative looks crosses his face and mixes with the anger. "Because that's you, isn't it? You do what you're told, when you're told. What do you actually do, Senpai? Is it even anything?"

"Stop it."

"You won't do anything when it counts, will you? I saw you, the day Shiho jumped. I saw you on the edge of the crowd, standing there, doing _nothing_. But you know who did something? Ryuji Sakamoto, the troublemaker you and everyone else is so quick to write off." His words are a terrible maelstrom. "He got Ann to Shiho's side. What did you do?"

Ryuji Sakamoto. It's something she can latch onto at least, find some purchase. "Ryuji Saka-"

He does not let her. "How about this? Would you believe me if I told you he was a good guy? A great guy?"

"He attacked a teacher!"

"He attacked Kamoshida!"

"That's-"

"Look me in the eye," he demands. She doesn’t. "Look me in the eye!" She does. "Tell me you haven't heard anything about Kamoshida. Tell me you haven't heard the rumors, or seen the injuries. Tell me that for all your brains, you're too dumb to put it all together!"

"Stop it."

"You can't, can you? You _have_ heard all the shit about him. But you won't do anything about it. But _I_ should join the Student Council so _I_ can contribute."

"Kamoshida-sensei is a teacher and-"

"Kamoshida is an abusive, self-absorbed maniac who wants to have sex with you, Makoto."

Her mouth drops open but no sound comes out. He shakes his head.

"Nothing to say, huh? Yeah, I bet you won't believe that either. You're just like everyone else. You won't do anything. You're _useless_."

_Useless._

_Useless._

_Useless._

Makoto's hands clench. "Stop talking to me like that."

"Or what?" Kurusu asks. A smile spreads across his face, mean and petty. "You'll hit me? Go ahead, see if I care. It won't make a difference. People like you don't change. You see what you want to see. Robotic, that's all you are."

_Robotic?_

She looks at him. She hates it, but she wants to cry. This isn't right. This isn't Akira Kurusu. She'd imagined him so many ways. A delinquent troublemaker with a tragic past, covered in tattoos and violent to a fault. A mild-mannered cute schoolboy with a mysterious backstory. Never this. Never so...

 _Cruel_.

"Yeah," he says, and he nearly towers over her now. "That's all you are. Just 'beep boop' and please the teachers and-"

Her fist collides with his jaw. He staggers back, and throws his arm up along the wall for balance. His glasses are knocked loose and skitter along the floor.

Makoto's hands clap over her mouth. "Oh. Oh no. Kurusu-kun. Akira. I'm so sorry."

He does not respond.

"Please," she says. "Please, please, _please_ forgive me. I just… I'm sorry. Please."

He does not respond.

"I didn't mean..." She reaches out a hand for him.

Her fingers are inches from his shoulder when he shifts. He straightens, but his head droops forward. His hair hangs in his face and she cannot see his eyes.

 _Oh, God. This is wrong_. She needs him to understand but he moves away. He walks to where his glasses have fallen. He bends down, and picks them up. He rubs the lenses on his sleeves. He returns them to his face.

"Thank you," he says.

"W-what?"

He turns to her. His eyes are no longer terrible. They are no longer anything. They are pale and lifeless. Fossils of what once was. "I think," he says, "I have all the knowledge I need to do well on my next exam." He bows, and it is one of the worst things Makoto has ever seen. "Thank you for all your help, Niijima-senpai, but I don't think these sessions are necessary anymore." He bends and picks up his bag. Shoulders it. Turns. Walks off.

"Wait," Makoto says. "Please."

He does not listen. Akira Kurusu turns into the stairwell, and descends.

#

"At least make some lockpicks!" Morgana leaps onto the desk and waves his forearms. "Come on. _Do_ something!"

Akira sits on the edge of his bed, hands clasped together. His glasses sit on the sill alongside the bed.

It is only seven o'clock.

Morgana sighs and flops onto his belly. "What is up with you, Akira? We were going to go to the Rafflesia place after your study session."

Akira doesn't reply.

"If you didn't want to go there, we could've at least called the gang together and hit the palace."

Akira doesn't reply.

"Seriously. What's wrong? Tell me."

Akira takes his hands apart and rubs his eyes. "I'm tired, Morgana. I'm going to bed." He stands, reaches for the lightbulb, and turns it off.

Morgana hops down and trots to his bed. "Don't give me that. You _never_ want to go to bed."

"I don't _want_ to go to bed, Morgana. But I'm tired, so I am."

"What happened at the study session?"

Akira hesitates before he replies. "Nothing important."

Morgana jumps up onto the bed, walks up to Akira's face, and begins to poke him with his paw. "I don't believe you."

"Stop."

"No." Morgana pokes him again. "Now, you listen to me. I dropped that thing with your mom because you asked me to. But this can't be a weekly occurrence. I'm relying on you here. So are Ryuji and Lady Ann." He pokes him again. "Maybe this seems unfair to you, but you don't get to space out whenever it's convenient for you. You're our leader. You have to lead."

"Morgana," Akira says. "Don't bring up my mother again."

"Fine. Done. But you tell me what's going on. What happened today?"

Akira shifts in bed and sits up. "Alright." Morgana lays on the sheets, patient. Akira reaches a hand up and rubs his jaw. "Niijima-senpai punched me in the face."

Morgana blinks. "Like, symbolically?"

"No. Like, in the face. With her fist."

"She _hit_ you? Why? What did you do?"

Akira glares down at the cat. "Nothing. I didn't do anything!" He frowns, and folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I guess that's not quite true."

It only takes a few minutes for him to explain it to Morgana. It's almost funny. While it had all been happening, it seemed like such a long event. But after walking Morgana through everything, Akira realizes the whole argument couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes.

"I get it," Morgana says, when he finishes.

"You do?"

"Sure." The cat's tail swishes back and forth, relaxed. "You were starting to think you could trust her. And she betrayed that."

"I don't know, Morgana. I'm not sure it's that simple."

"What'd you mean?"

"I said some really, _really_ mean stuff to her. I know I was angry, but at the end, I don't even think I was trying to make a point. I think I was just trying to put her down." He looks at his friend. "And I never thought I was like that. Honestly, it kind of freaked me out."

"Do you think that's why she hit you?"

He puts his head in his hands. "I don't know. I don't think I'm wrong, but I don't think I’m right, either. God, why couldn't she have just stuck to studying? Why'd she have to bring Ryuji into it?"

Morgana reaches out a paw and pats Akira's leg. "Maybe you got angry. Maybe you got mean. But hey, at least we know you're loyal to your friends."

Akira shakes his head. "Thanks, Morgana. But that doesn't really make me feel any better."

"Sorry."

He reaches out a hand and rubs his friend's head. "The Metaverse is simpler than this, and the Metaverse makes no sense."

#

Makoto sits on her bed, cross-legged, in her pajamas. Too wired from the fight with Kurusu, she found herself unable to study. She had spent some time exercising in the basement gym, but every time she hit the bag, she saw Kurusu and the diminished, drained look on his face.

In the end, she had retreated to her room, and taken out the hidden DVD collection from her closet. With the lights out, and her headphones in, she'd watched movie after movie on her laptop.

On screen, two sworn Yakuza brothers clasp hands, then turn to the numerous enemies intent on killing them. Makoto knows how this will end. Neither of the two men will make it out of this alive, but neither is willing to leave the other to their fate alone. Her hands are clenched as the two men scream their war cry and charge.

Credits roll.

She checks the time. It's fast approaching midnight.

She pulls the headphones from her ears and sets her laptop on the floor. Then she flops back on her bed and stares at the dark ceiling. The knuckles of her right hand still sting.

With a frustrated huff, she grabs her pillow and shoves it over her face. "I messed up!" She yells, muffled, into it. She lets it lie on her face for a while, until it tilts to the side and falls off on its own.

She has to fix this. She had only wanted to help Akira Kurusu, and instead she had just hurt him. Both emotionally and physically.

 _You're useless_. That's what he had said. Even now, alone, she can still feel the crimson rising in her cheeks at the words. Was he even wrong? What did she do?

No. There has to be a way to make this right. Her phone beeps. She checks it. It's midnight.

"Happy birthday to me," she says, to the dark. She sets her morning alarm and gets under the covers.

 _Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to fix this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And with this, I take my leave. I will be on break until Monday, August 7th. Before I go, I want to say a few things. First off, thank you. Thank you to everyone who has read Crimson. Thank you to everyone who has left a comment, review, Kudo, Fav, or followed it and/or me on ao3 or FF.net. Thank you to everyone who has told a friend about it. You people are freakin' fantastic. From what I understand, someone by the name of 'Teekays' submitted this fic to the Persona 5 Fanfic Recs page of TV Tropes. Teekays, I don't know who you are, but thank you! It means a lot to me to see this so well-received. I hope you all keep reading and enjoying Crimson, because I'm just getting started. I'll see you soon!


	16. Clear Consciences

4/23

Akira stands at the bottom of Shujin's front steps.

Makoto stands at the top of Shujin's front steps.

They look at one another, neither able to hold the other's gaze longer than a few moments before their eyes avert, only to return some heartbeats later.

Around them, students shuffle their way inside.

A burning knot grows in his stomach, one that tightens with each achingly slow second that passes.

Morgana squirms in his bag, anxious at the lack of movement, and oblivious to the moment on the steps. Akira collects as much courage as he can, and ascends.

"Hi," Makoto says, when he reaches the top.

"Hey."

Another bout of silence. Words rise in Akira's throat but die behind his teeth, unsaid. _Say something_ , he thinks. _Come on. Say something!_

"Yo!" Both Makoto and Akira jump as Ryuji bounds up the steps, and throws his arm around Akira's shoulder. "What's going on, bro?" When he sees Makoto, he stiffens and bumbles out, "Oh, hey, Miss President."

"Sakamoto-kun." She favors him an awkward smile before her jaw sets. "Actually, this works out. Would you both come with me, for a few minutes?"

"Um," Ryuji says. "See, I got class, so-"

"I promise," Makoto cuts in. "That if either of you gets in trouble, I will take full responsibility."

Ryuji looks to Akira, who only shrugs. He has yet to tell his friend of the prior day's events. "A-alright."

"Thank you."

She leads them upstairs, past the eyes of gossiping students, and up further still until they reach the door to the roof.

"Ain't this off-limits?" Ryuji whispers to Akira, as Makoto peeks through the door's window. "I mean, I know we use it, but we're not supposed to."

Akira says nothing.

Satisfied with their solitude, Makoto yanks the door open and leads the two outside. Akira and Ryuji halt a few paces from the entrance. Makoto takes a few more steps than are necessary. Then, she whips around and bows, deep.

To Ryuji.

"I'm very sorry!" She blurts.

"Oh, crap!" Ryuji squeaks. "Akira, what's going on?"

Makoto, still bowed, begins to speak before Akira can formulate a response. "I said some very rude things about you to Kurusu-kun yesterday. He got very angry. It wasn't until later on that I realized he was right."

Ryuji glances from Makoto, to Akira, and back to Makoto. "Could you, like, stand up or something? This is kind of freakin' me out."

Makoto straightens, but keeps her eyes on the ground. "Everyone says you're a troublemaker. A delinquent. And I accepted that at face value. I never questioned it. I never even thought about it, or considered there might be a reason you behaved the way you do." Akira needs to strain to hear her words over the howl of the morning's wind. "I'm very sorry, Sakamoto. You're a student at Shujin, and I never gave you a chance. Please, accept my apology, and know it won't happen again."

"Geez," Ryuji says, and rubs the back of his head. "Not, uh, really sure what to say. It's fine, I guess?"

"Really?" Makoto asks. "Just like that?"

"Sure," Ryuji replies, shrugging. "I don't really care that much what people think of me. I've got friends, so as long as they're cool with me, I'm all good." He grins and slaps Akira's shoulder. "And it sounds like Akira here does have my back. Hey, Prez, what kind of nice stuff was he sayin' about me?"

Makoto smiles a bit. "He said you were a great guy."

Ryuji lets out a sigh and laughs. "That sounds about right."

Akira blushes and glances down at his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it, Sakamoto-kun. But I have one further request," Makoto says. The two boys stare at her, and her brows come together. "Please, tell me the truth about what happened between Kamoshida-sensei and yourself."

Ryuji pales. "What? For real?"

Makoto nods. "Yes. Please."

The two boys look at one another. "What should I do?" Ryuji asks.

Akira shrugs. _It's your story, Ryuji. It's your decision._

Ryuji frowns, nods, and tells his tale.

It does not take long. When he's finished, Makoto's eyes stare off into the distance, a look Akira has come to recognize means she's deep in thought. "I see. Thank you."

Ryuji takes out his phone and blanches. "So, uh, I know you said you'd take responsibility and all, but I really should get going. Are we all set here?"

"Yes, thank you, Sakamoto-kun."

Ryuji looks to Akira, but sees something there that he can only reply to with, "Alright. Later, guys."

Akira watches his friend leave and shut the door behind him. He does not turn back to Makoto. Morgana is still. Either the cat is waiting to see how this all plays out, or he's fallen asleep.

The wind whips across the rooftop once more, blotting out all other sound. When it dies, he hears Makoto speak. "You haven't said anything."

Akira does not turn to her. "You didn't say you believe him."

Makoto doesn't reply for a time. Then, she says, "I'm willing to believe him."

Akira smiles. Turns. He walks up to her. Bows. "I'm sorry, Niijima-senpai. I know you were trying to help me. I know that's what you meant. In return, I said a lot horrible things to you."

"Kurusu-kun-"

"I don't think you're useless. I don't think you're robotic. You're, like, the third person to be nice to me here. It meant a lot to me." _It still does_.

"Kurusu-"

He barrels onward. "Everything is such a blur. It wasn't just you. Really. I'm so damn mad about all that's happened to me, and I just snapped. I-"

"Akira!"

He bites his lip. Straightens. It is only when he looks at her now that he sees just how worn she looks. Her skin is pale. Her eyes are rimmed with dark circles. Her smile is small and just a bit scared.

"I _hit_ you," she says, her voice cracking. Her eyes begin to blink. Her lip quivers.

 _Oh shit_. "To be fair," he half-shouts. "I deserved it."

Makoto shuts her eyes, and presses her palms against her lids. Then one hand curls into a fist, and she strikes out with a slow, tiny jab, and taps him on the shoulder. She opens her eyes and smiles, and Akira can feel the red in his cheeks once more. "You did." She takes a deep inhale and lets out an even bigger exhale. "I'm sorry I insulted your friend. And I'm sorry I didn't take your feelings into consideration, or even try to understand them."

Akira nods. "I think we both-" But he's interrupted by the familiar clang of the rooftop's door.

Makoto squeaks, and again Akira cannot believe a noise like that can come from a girl like this, and grabs the lapels of his uniform in a tighter grasp than he is expecting and whips him around behind the roof's enormous air conditioning unit, shoves him up against it, shoves _herself_ up against _him_ and clamps a hand over his mouth. "Mmhn-" he starts, but one silent glare from her is enough for him to silence himself.

Makoto leans away and peeks around the corner of the A/C. "It's Ushimaru-sensei. Dammit, he probably heard us."

 _Or Ryuji made a racket going back downstairs_ , Akira thinks.

Makoto stays silent for a few moments more, and Akira watches her eyes. There's an intensity there he cannot look away from. Then he hears the door slam shut once more, and Makoto releases a sigh and removes her hand from his mouth. She does not step away.

"You'll take full responsibility, huh?" Akira asks.

"Oh, be quiet."

"I'm just saying, slamming my head against an air conditioner is an interesting way of _taking responsibility_."

"Don't make me punch you again."

Akira leans his head back against the rumbling metal machine and lets out a soft laugh. Makoto's face breaks into a grin and she giggles along with him.

They look at each other. Neither looks away. Akira becomes aware of Makoto's body still pressed up against his own, like a second layer of clothing. Her hand, removed from his mouth, now rests against his chest. His heart slams against it. His throat dries up. He is more aware of his pulse than he ever has been before. Seconds stretch into days, and still neither of them looks away.

Akira tilts his head forward.

Makoto does not pull back.

From inside his bag, Morgana squeals, "What is going on out there?" Akira feels a leg jab out from the bag and directly into his spine.

"Dah!" He yelps.

Makoto blinks, flushes, and jumps two feet away. "Um, what?" She looks at his bag. "That sounded like a cat."

"A cat?" Akira asks, and shakes his head. "Nope. That's my, uh, ringtone."

"Oh." Makoto pulls out her own phone, and her eyes widen. "It is getting rather late. School will be starting any second. We should go."

"R-right," Akira says.

Makoto leads him to the door, peeks inside, and opens it for him once again. The two disappear through it.

#

Makoto sits in the library, hunched over her work. The advanced math problems dance before her eyes, but all she can see is Akira's face, up on that roof, so close to her own, and suddenly getting closer.

 _No. No way. Couldn't be. I punched in that face just yesterday_. She shakes her head, stares at the empty chair across from her, and lets out a frustrated sigh. _It's done. We cleared the air. That's what was important._

She hears the door open, but doesn't turn around. It is only when a bag flops down on the table alongside hers that she looks up.

Akira Kurusu pulls out his usual chair and sits himself down.

"Kurusu-kun?" She asks, and when the question is done, her mouth hangs open just a bit longer than necessary.

"Niijima-senpai," he replies, and begins to unpack his books.

"What're you doing here?"

"It's the last day of the week. I believe you said, 'We'll meet every day this week, after school. In the library.'"

"Yes, but-"

"I told you," Kurusu says, a grin on his face, but his eyes on his books. "I have a vivid imagination."

She leaves it at that, and they begin to study.

Makoto steals glances at him from time to time, and chides herself when she does so. The sessions have obviously paid off, because Kurusu's work requires little correction. It allows her mind to drift to other topics. Most are appropriate. Some are not.

There is one thing her mind continues to return to, again and again. Something she intends to keep secret from Kurusu, even as she feels the now familiar tang of guilt on her tongue.

There was a reason Makoto had asked Sakamoto to share his story. Kurusu had been right yesterday. She _has_ heard the disquieting rumors surrounding Kamoshida-sensei.

 _If this is all true, then something needs to be done_. And as Student Council President, it is her responsibility to do so. The student body elected her to look out for their interests, and that must mean more than just budget balancing and the odd speech giving.

 _If Dad had heard about this kind of thing, he wouldn't have stopped until he uncovered the truth_. An old pain accompanies this thought, but it is a welcome one, like a friend unseen for some time. _I'll formulate a strategy tomorrow, and begin my investigation on Monday_.

She is set in this.

Her phone beeps.

She apologizes to Kurusu, takes it out, and checks the message.

 ** _SAE_** : _Apologies, won't be home tonight either. We will go another time._

Makoto sighs.

"You okay?" Kurusu asks.

She replies without even thinking about it. "It's just my sister, again. We were going to go somewhere for my birthday tonight, but she just cancelled." She looks up.  Kurusu's mouth hangs open. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's your birthday?" He asks.

"Oh, um, yes."

"Today is your _birthday_?"

She nods. "It is."

"Then why are we-" Kurusu begins, but Makoto hears the library's door open behind her, and whatever else he was going to say is silenced.

His eyes widen. His skin pales.

Someone steps around to their table, and stares down at them. "Niijima-san," Kamoshida says, his voice loud and alien to this place. "I'd heard you spent most of your time here. Diligent as always."

"Good day, Kamoshida-sensei," she says, with the proper respect. "May we help you?"

His grin expands. "Actually, I think I can help you." Then, he sticks his thumb towards Kurusu. "This one, on the other hand, can't be helped or help anyone. I wonder, Niijima-san, has he told you about his expulsion?"

"What?" Makoto asks, her jaw dropping. She looks over at Kurusu and blinks. The boy's hands are shaking. His hair hangs into his face, and she cannot see his eyes, but his mouth is pulled tight into a horrific scowl. "That makes no sense..."

"Ah, I see. He didn't say anything, did he?" Kamoshida shrugs. "Can't say I blame him. Assaulting a teacher is embarrassing."

Makoto leans towards him, and for a moment, reaches a hand out for one of his quivering ones. She recoils at the last moment. "But Kurusu, if you've been expelled-"

"I haven't," he whispers.

"Technically that's true," Kamoshida says, with another bored shrug. "It hasn't been finalized yet. I'll push it through at the next board meeting in May." He peers over at the books. "Studying for exams, huh? Kind of pointless, given that you won't be here to take them."

When Kurusu speaks, his words are stones. "I have every intention of taking those tests."

Makoto stands. "Unacceptable."

Kamoshida blinks and frowns. "Excuse me?"

Makoto blushes and clears her throat. "I, uh, I mean, sir, that certainly Kurusu-kun cannot be such a problematic student that he deserves expulsion. There must be something we, or I, could do to prove otherwise."

A slow smile spreads across Kamoshida's face. "Well, now that you mention it, perhaps something could be arranged. Why don't you come with me to my office? We can discuss it there."

Kurusu's hand slaps down upon the wooden table, and the sound snaps through the room. "Don't," he says. Makoto isn't sure to whom he is speaking.

"Hey, this is a library," Kamoshida says. "Keep it down."

Makoto's thoughts race. _This is my chance. If I can get him talking, perhaps he'll spill something to me. And maybe I can get him to change his mind about expelling Kurusu. I have to try. He can't... he can't just leave. Even if Kamoshida-sensei has nefarious purposes towards me, would he try something so soon after school ended? Certainly not. If I don't go with him now, he may close himself off to me, and then I'll never learn the truth_.

She makes her decision. "Shall we, Kamoshida-sensei?"

The man beams.

Dread spreads across Kurusu's face. She tries to convey a message with her eyes. _Please believe me. I have to do this. Please, please don't think I'm betraying you._ "We _will_ continue our session another time, Kurusu-kun."

"Makoto," he whispers, and once more, her name on his lips is a sharp stab to her stomach. "Don't."

"Please," she replies, and gives him one last look before she follows Kamoshida out into the hall.

He leads her to his office, and holds the door for her. Once it is shut, he turns. "I think it's very admirable you're willing to give someone like Kurusu a chance. You're aware of his record, yes?"

Makoto keeps her face neutral. "I'm aware of the circumstances."

"Apparently, he really did a number on the guy. The guy he assaulted, I mean." He grins. "But, I can see why someone like you might be... interested, let's say, in someone like that."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll be blunt. I'm aware that you're looking for a letter of recommendation. And, as you just said, you're hoping to halt Kurusu's impending expulsion. I could help you with both of those things."

Makoto narrows her eyes. "And why would you do that? I got the impression you didn't like Kurusu-kun."

"Well, maybe I like you more than I don't like him." His smile widens to a sickening degree, his brows rise, his cheeks flush. "So, why don't we talk about how _exactly_ you can help me, help you?"

He begins to walk towards her and Makoto's pulse skyrockets. _This was a mistake. I-_

A piercing, rattling shriek echoes through the office. Makoto's hands clap over her ears against the onslaught. _That's the fire alarm!_

Kamoshida moves to the door, throws it open, and steps outside. Makoto follows. Students pour from their club rooms and shuffle toward the stairwell.

Away from this congregation, stands Akira Kurusu.

He is in the center of the hall, clear of the throng of students and remaining faculty, and stares at the two of them. His eyes are wild, his hair, disheveled. He is still so pale.

Kamoshida folds his arms across his chest and smiles. It is a different kind of smile now. "I see," he says, and Makoto has to strain to hear him over the clattering of the fire alarm. "Niijima-chan, let's continue this conversation another time. Something has just come up."

#

They stare.

Akira feels his heartbeat echo through his bones. His blood is ablaze. There is no pretense now. He stares at Kamoshida with a look he knows he should not be wearing. He no longer cares. His mind no longer puts up with rationality.

When Kamoshida had shut the door behind Makoto, Akira had sat at that library table, dumbstruck.

 _Have to stop him_.

Morgana had decided to nap inside his bag for the study session. Akira had shaken him awake.

 _Have to stop him_.

His instructions had been haphazard, more spittle than words. Fire alarm. Find the others. Vague descriptions rather than tactics. He'd opened the door to the library and Morgana had shot down the hall. Those students outside had leapt in shock at the black flash dashing by.

 _Have to stop him_.

He has. He has stopped him. And now he stares at the King, and everything he's ever thought of the tyrant is writ across his face. He knows this because he can feel it.

"Something has just come up," Kamoshida tells her.

She stands there for a moment longer, the terrible screech of the fire alarm nothing but dim white noise to Akira. Then she walks past him. He does not watch her. He does not want her to think this gaze is meant for her.

When she is gone, they are alone. The floor is empty. The bell stops. Kamoshida sticks a pinky in his ear. "Geez, that's loud." He walks up to Akira. He is taller by a head, and glares this length down at him. "I don't like the way you're looking at me."

There are many hateful things Akira wishes to say, but instead he starts with, "You have to know this is wrong. Please stop. Are you so far gone that you can't-"

He does not get to finish.

Kamoshida's fist smashes into his cheek. His brain rattles in his skull and he suddenly does not know where he is.

The punch is not surgical like Makoto's. It is designed to hurt, and so it does.

And so does the next.

And so does the next.

And so does the next.

And so does the next.

"Every time," Kamoshida says, as his fist rises and falls, again and again, "Every time I turn around. There you are."

When he finishes, he grips Akira by his uniform's collar and lifts him up until the boy's bruised and bloody face is inches from his own. "Get this through what's left of your skull. This place is _mine_." He looks as if he has more to say, but he only shakes his head and lets Akira drop to the floorboards. As he rubs his knuckles, he says, "If you bother the school nurse with those injuries, I'll say you assaulted me and have you arrested on the spot. If you go to the cops, I'll tell them the same thing. Either way, any way, you lose. Just take your hits, learn your lesson, and disappear."

Kamoshida begins to walk off, but feels something grab the leg of his track pants. He looks down.

Akira's nearly limp fingers clutch at the fabric. The boy is prostrate upon his back. He glares up at Kamoshida.

Except, no. That's not quite right.

There is blood in his mouth. His face is a mound of purple flesh. Still, his eyes are open and wild. Akira’s lips are pulled back in a savage smile.

His words, when he speaks, are wet and faint, but they strike like knives in the dark. "We're coming for you, Your Majesty."

Kamoshida has not had a reason to feel fear for some time now. Secure in a world and culture which feasts on his accomplishments, he saw himself get away with more and more, until the animalistic instincts bred through millennia of evolution became little more than annoying memories.

But now, Kamoshida feels fear. It is brief. Lasts little more than an instant. But it is sharp and it is deep and it _infects_ him.

"Trash," he says, and kicks his leg free.

#

Blood.

His mouth tastes of it.

His face is covered in it.

Even his eyes are filled with it.

They find him not long after. He is spread-eagle on the floor, his body sprawled like some absurd compass. He stares up at the ceiling. His glasses are alongside him, knocked askew by one of Kamoshida's punches.

Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana bound up the steps, having ignored the mandatory evacuation. Their voices, when they see him and run to him, mix together in a cacophony of shouts, sobs, protestations and accusations.

"Takemi," he mutters, when they discuss where to take him.

"The doctor at the clinic?" Morgana asks.

"Take me there." It hurts to speak. "Not the nurse. Not a regular doctor. They'll call police. He'll say I started it. Please."

"But that's all the way in Yongen-jaya, we can't cart you over there on a train, like this!"

Ryuji grabs one of Akira's arms. "Then we'll take a freakin' cab! This is no time to be stingy. He says 'Takemi,' we take him to 'Takemi!'"

"Right!" Ann grabs his other arm. Together, the two haul Akira to his feet and throw his arms around their shoulders. Morgana leads the way down the steps.

The students and faculty have collected among themselves outside the front gate. They wait for the fire department to confirm the alarm as false. Given that they are predominantly huddled in their own private groups, when Ann, Ryuji and Akira emerge from the building, accompanied by a cat, they go largely unnoticed.

Makoto rushes up to them the moment they are outside. Ann and Ryuji huddle up around Akira, doing their best to keep his injuries hidden.

"Kurusu?" Makoto asks. She looks from Ryuji to Ann. "Is that him?"

"Not now!" Ann says, and pushes their way past.

With a shove of her arm, Makoto takes a few steps back, but the shift of Ann's shoulders is enough for her to catch a glimpse at Akira's ruined face. She gasps. "Oh my god, what happened to him?"

"What'd ya think?" Ryuji says, as they begin to hustle Akira down the front steps to the gate.

#

Akira's eyes inch open. Dull fluorescents dig into his pupils, and he groans against the sudden aches. This, in turn, makes him wince. To move, to utter even base glottal sounds, hurts.

"You're awake."

He rolls his eyes to the side. Takemi sits on her stool, elbows on her thighs, hands folded together, chin against her knuckles. There is no trace of her usual, seductive self. Hard eyes meet his own.

Akira works his dry mouth and manages, "My friends?"

"What friends?" Takemi asks, and stands. "Friends don't let their own get this badly beaten." Her tone is sharp and mean. "Friends would stop it."

"Please," Akira groans.

Takemi huffs and crosses her arms. "In the waiting area. With your cat." Her high heels begin to tap a slow, steady rhythmic beat into the tiled floor. "One week, Kurusu. I've known you, for one week." She shakes her head. "The deal's off."

Akira's eyes widen. "What?"

"This was stupid of me, not to mention irresponsible. I'm calling the police."

"You can't." He sits up, stands. "What about-"

"I'll find another way," she cuts off, and reaches for the room's door. "I'm not going to watch you die just to keep my secret."

He crosses the room faster than he thought he could and closes his hand around her wrist. She looks at him, eyes narrowed, and says, very slowly, "Get your hand off me."

"If you tell the police I'll get arrested."

"I'd rather that than get you killed."

"If you tell the police, the one who did this will walk." He lets her wrist go. "And I'm not the only one he's done this to. The blonde guy out there? The one who did this, broke his leg last year."

Takemi's hand closes around the door's handle, but doesn't press it down. "Tell me who it is. You've got enough evidence on your face to put whoever it is in jail."

Akira shakes his head. "People know about it. They don't do anything. And I'm..." He trails off, looks at the floor, and continues, "People won't believe me. Or, I guess, the people who do or will believe, won't be able to do anything."

Takemi looks the wounds over again. "Boss wouldn't do this to you. And I've seen the consistency of the wounds. That's right," she says when his eyes widen. "I've noticed. And God forgive me, but I didn't say anything. Given the frequency, you can only be receiving these at a place you'd go regularly. I don't know about your personal life, so I can only assume that it's either a student, or a teacher that's doing this to you." Akira stiffens, but doesn't reply. "It's a teacher, then." She sighs, takes her hand from the knob and leads Akira back to the bed. "Here, lie back down."

"How do you-" Akira starts, but she shakes her head.

"From experience," she says. She turns to the medicine cabinet, opens it, and rummages around until she pulls out a vial of pills. She pops the lid, shakes out two, and extends them to him. "Light painkillers. They'll help."

"Thanks." He takes them, tosses them into his mouth, and swallows them dry.

Takemi leans back against the desk. "Is a teacher really doing this to you?" Akira doesn't reply. "Kurusu, I know you must be scared, but-"

"I'm _not_ scared of him," Akira growls, and Takemi stiffens. His brows come together and Takemi recoils from his glazed glare. "I'm going to stop him."

"Oh, Kurusu." She walks over and rests her hands gently on his shoulders. "Please, just go to the police. I can testify on your behalf."

"That won't stop him," Akira says. "And if you did, you'd have to tell them about the medicine. And then you would go to jail, or lose your license."

"That doesn't matter to-"

Akira's eyes rip into her own. "It matters to me."

Takemi blinks, and finds she cannot meet his gaze. _This kid. Who the hell is he?_ Akira's gaze softens. "Please. Just trust me a little bit more. Don't tell anyone. I _can_ stop him. But I need your help."

Takemi's voice drops to a whisper. "How can the medicine I sell you help with this?"

"You wouldn't believe me. But, it's vital. It'll be impossible without it. So, please, Doctor Takemi, _trust me_."

#

The door to LeBlanc jingles. Sojiro, set upon his stool, paper in hand, turns in a lazy circle towards the sound and says, "Welcome to-" But his words fall away.

Takemi stands in the doorway, and behind her, is Kurusu, face a busted ruin, hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"What the hell?" Sojiro shouts, standing, paper falling to the floor. He crosses to them. "What happened?"

Takemi's mouth works, but it is only on her third attempt that she mumbles out, "Kids."

"Kids?" Sojiro asks. He reaches out and pokes Kurusu’s face, who cringes and withdraws. "Kids did _this?_ "

"They can be savage these days. I actually saw the whole thing."

"You did?"

She nods. "I was out walking, getting some fresh air. Then I saw these three punks ganging up on your ward here. I scared them off." Sojiro blinks, and Takemi throws on her best smile, and hates herself just a bit more for it. "I can be pretty scary when I want to be."

"I don't doubt it." Sojiro turns towards the phone. "We need to call the police!"

"Please don't," Akira lisps. Takemi would find his voice hilarious if her heart didn't feel like it had been shoved into a meat grinder. "I know who did it. They're good students. The police won't believe. Me. Won't believe me. See my record. Arrest me instead. Probably."

Sojiro looks to Takemi.

"He's on some meds I gave him," she replies. "And I think he may be right. I only saw the tail end of it. If the kids say that he started it, I wouldn't be able to prove them wrong."

Sojiro curses and sets the phone back down. "So, what should we do?"

Akira opens his mouth and drags out the word, "Nothing."

Takemi frowns, and removes Kurusu's hand, before draping his arm around her shoulder. "For now, I think the best thing for him is rest. I did an exam. I don't think there's going to be any permanent damage. Just some wounded pride and lumps."

Sojiro gasps. "What about Prince? Is Prince okay?"

Takemi blinks. "Prince? Who's Prince?"

The cat pops its head out from Kurusu's bag and meows. Sojiro steps around the two humans and rubs the cat's head with his palm. "It's our cat. The kid takes him to school with him."

"He does?" Takemi asks. "Why?"

"I don't know," Sojiro says. "He's weird. Let me help you get him upstairs."

"That's alright," Takemi says, and begins to drag Kurusu down the bar's length. "I got him. I'm gonna put him right to bed. He should get some rest tomorrow too. Plenty of ice and aspirin if he needs it. Doctor's orders."

Sojiro frowns, but nods. "Alright. Thanks for all your help."

Once upstairs, Takemi helps Kurusu down onto his bed. The cat jumps out of the bag and curls up next to him. She had sent his friends, Ryuji and Ann, home, after a severe scolding.

"Thank you," Kurusu whispers.

Takemi glares down at him. "I don't like lying."

"Neither do I."

"Really? Because you seem rather good at it. You sure played up that whole pain-killer thing. Has it kicked in yet, by the way?"

Kurusu nods. "Yeah. And I'm not lying to you."

"You just won't tell me what you're going to do."

"I'm going to stop someone bad from doing bad things."

"And that's so vague it could mean anything, even murder."

Kurusu smiles a bit. "Do I look like a murderer?"

"No," Takemi says. "But then again, I don't look like someone who would run unauthorized medical experiments. In my experience, people often don't look like what they really are." She stands. "And I guess I'm just wondering who _you_ really are." She shoves her hands in her lab coat and turns back to the stairs. "I'll keep your secret for now. But if you _ever_ show up at my clinic like that again, you'll have to kill _me_ to stop me from calling the police." She marches away, reaches the steps and stops. "Come by the clinic when you're feeling better. I want to make sure there really isn't any permanent damage."

His voice is low, but she can still hear it from across the room. "Thank you."

She walks down the steps. _I need a drink._

#

Makoto sits at her kitchen table, and stares at nothing. Her dinner is before her, untouched. Her books are in her bag, and will remain there for the rest of the night. She is alone. Her hands won't stop shaking.

She sees, again, the devastated face of Akira Kurusu. It is all she can see.

_What's going on?_

 

4/24

"Lay back down."

"No."

Morgana jumps onto the bed and sits in Akira's lap. "Lay. Back. Down."

"It's Sunday, Morgana. This is the perfect time to go to the Palace."

"No, it isn't. You heard the Doc. You're not going anywhere today."

"Can't you just hit me with a Dia in the Metaverse and heal me?"

Morgana rolls his eyes. "It doesn't work like that. The injuries you sustain in the Metaverse are cognitive in nature. Meaning that the healing spells we use are perceived to work, which is why they do. Real world injuries can't be healed by going there, because by your perception, they can’t be healed by magic."

"That makes no kind of sense."

"I didn't make the rules."

"Yeah, well let me know the minute you remember who did." Morgana doesn't reply. Akira waits a minute, then says, "Sorry. I know that's a sore topic."

"It's fine."

"So, no Palace?"

"No Palace."

"Fine." Akira lays back down, but he stays in that position for only a minute before he starts to sit back up. "There’s something I want to do, though."

"No!"

"I promise, it'll be quick. There's something I want to buy. It's important, Morgana. We don't even have to leave the neighborhood."

"You're not supposed to leave your bed."

"Please?" Akira asks.

"Tell me what it is, first."

"It's a surprise."

"Is it for me?"

"No."

"Then you're not going anywhere."

"I'm going to pester you until you let me go."

Morgana sighs. "Is it really that important to you?"

"Yes. It is."

"Fine. But we're not leaving Yongen-Jaya. We're going to pick up whatever it is and come right back. Agreed?"

Akira smiles. "Agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Not gonna lie, feels pretty good. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, but it also went through a huge amount of revision. I'm happy where it is though, and I hope you all are happy with it too. Thank you to everyone who wished me well during my break. It was rather hectic, so the messages helped a lot.  
> Anyway, as always, thank you very much for reading Crimson! I'll see you on Wednesday!


	17. Mendacium

4/25

Akira opens the classroom door and steps through. He slides it shut and hears the gentle _click_ as it completes its circuit.

"Hello."

His heart spasms. A girl sits at one of desks near the far wall. She holds a book in her hands, its cover adorned with the image of a garden spade piercing rich, brown soil. Elegant curls of chestnut hair cascade down beneath her chin, and complement her same-colored eyes. She wears a light pink cardigan over a white long-sleeved shirt, and her Shujin skirt covers her thighs, while ivory tights conceal the rest of her legs. Her smile is petite, but polite and warm.

"I'm sorry, but you're not in this class, are you?"

Akira clears his throat. He wears a sweatshirt over his uniform, and has the hood pulled up. His face is still wreathed in bruises, and he tilts his head forward, out of the morning’s light breaking through the windows. In his hand, he grips a small, wrapped box. "No. I'm not. Sorry."

"Is there something I can help you with?" She places a golden bookmark between her present pages, and sets the volume upon her desk. She stands.

"Um, I was actually wondering if you could tell me which desk is Niijima-senpai's?"

"Oh. Niijima-san?" She asks, and tilts her head to the side. "May I ask why you need to know?"

"It's, uh, personal."

The girl's smile grows from polite to knowing. She clasps her hands together, palms to the floor, and rocks on her heels as she says, "I see. Well, in that case," and she nods towards the first row. "It's that one."

_Front row, dead center. Figures._

"Thank you."

He feels her eyes scour him as he walks the length of the classroom, yet she says nothing as he places the small box inside Makoto's desk. His hands, now empty, clutch at one another, seeking something to hold. He clenches them to fists, turns to the girl and bows.

"Thank you very much for your help."

"Think nothing of it."

Akira quickly moves to the classroom's door, but when he opens it, the girl calls out, "I'm sure she'll love it!" He reddens, and steps out into the hall.

#

Makoto enters the classroom a bit later than usual. There’s an ache the size of a fist behind her eyes. Haru Okumura giggles as she walks past, but Makoto cannot be bothered to give this any thought.

She sits in her seat, opens her bag, and begins to organize. Her hand, when she reaches inside her desk, brushes against some foreign object. She grasps it. Withdraws it. It is a small blue box, wrapped in a red bow.

She unties the bow and slides the box open.

Inside is a Buchimaru pencil case. White with black spots, tipped by the character’s cute animal face. It is identical to her old one. Her pulse quickens as she lifts the lid, and finds a tiny note within.

_'Niijima-senpai: Sometimes, you just have to know where to look. Happy birthday. - Akira Kurusu'_

She takes the pencil case and slips it into her bag. She stands and walks out of the classroom. She enters the girls' room and finds an empty stall. She shuts the door, latches it, and sits down.

Tears come unbidden to her eyes, but for whatever reason, there's a smile on her face.

#

The guard lurches up to its comrade. "Anything to report?"

Its opposite shakes its head. "Nothing. Our liege’s treasure remains secure. No sign of the intruders." They stand sentinel within a room littered with gold coins and paraphernalia.

"We must locate them soon, our lord's patience grows thin."

Another guard serves its post near the treasure room's double doors, and remains silent.

"You there," the first shouts at it. "Report."

It doesn't reply. "I said, 'Report!'"

Its head tilts back, and it emits a whimper of a cry before it evaporates into a cloud of ash.

From this cloud, stalks Joker, knife in hand. "Looks like you found me."

The two guards convulse and burst as Joker calls upon Arsene. His Persona rises and cackles as it vomits forth a fiery jet of its red and black tendrils. One guard is impaled before it can completely transform, and accompanied by the sound of crushed metal, dies.

The other emerges as a gargantuan pool of black sludge, with a gibbering, slobbering approximation of a face.

Perched on a balcony above, the remaining thieves take stock.

"Man," Skull says, as Joker draws his gun and fires a series of useless bullets into the sludge's side. "Joker's real pissed today."

"He hasn't taken a new Persona either," Panther remarks. "He's just been carving them up."

"Now's not the time to be talking about it!" Mona shouts, as the sludge hurls a thick collection of itself at Joker, who is just able to dodge. "We need to get in there."

The three leap down and throw themselves into the fray.

Skull's Captain bombards the thing with lightning as he falls, but it has no discernable effect, and the creature turns its eye upon him.

"Shit!" Skull shouts as one long, dripping arm hurls out of the thing's side. It slams into Skull's stomach and pitches him into the far wall.

Panther lands and summons Carmen. With a pivot, the dancer unleashes a pulse of fire which washes over the sludge like a wave. It gurgles in pain. "Mona!" She calls, and outstretches her hand.

The cat lands in her palm, and she throws him back into the air. "Let’s do this, Zorro!" The outlaw materializes, and with a flourish of its sword, a great wind bellows down from above. The fire - which still clings to the sludge like a painful second skin – sucks in the air, and grows.

The thing shudders, but does not die.

Joker steps between the thieves as Mona lands. With a flick of his wrist, a small medicine vial is tossed through the air and lands in Panther's hand. "See to Skull," he says. "I'll finish this one."

"Are you-" She starts, but Joker does not wait for her to finish.

"Eligor!"

A burst of blue flame, and the mounted samurai - once an enemy - arises behind Joker.

"Agi."

It raises its spear and another burst of fire bathes the writhing black mass. A squeal escapes its distorted mouth, before it erupts into a thick ashen paste, and scatters upon the coin-strewn floor.

"Sorry, sorry," Skull says as he hobbles up. He tilts the medicine vial up to his lips and sips the last of it. "Good thing it was weak to fire, right?"

"You okay?" Joker asks.

"Yep," he replies, tossing the empty vial aside.  "All set."

Panther and Mona stand behind him, and nod when Joker regards them. "So," he asks, and turns back to the shimmering, stationary aurora in the center of the room. "Is this it?"

Mona smirks and walks beneath it. He lifts his paws into the air and says, "That's right. This is the treasure."

The three remaining thieves regard the formless cloud. "Um," Panther says. "How are we supposed to steal this?" She waves her hand through it. "We can't even touch it."

Mona tilts his head to the side, a knowing smile on his face. "Well, that's because desires have no physical form by nature. We're going to need to make this materialize before we can actually steal it."

"Wait, what?" Skull asks. "Why didn't we just do that before we got in here?"

"Because," Mona says. "There's a limited time frame. First, we need to make the target - in the real world - aware that their desires are in fact, a treasure. Once we do that, the treasure will materialize, right here, and we can come in and steal it."

Skull frowns. "So, we get all the way in here, and now we've got to get back out, and convince Kamoshida of whatever you just said, _and then_ we have to come _back in_ and take it?"

Mona nods. "That's right."

Skull groans. "Why didn't you just tell us that?"

Mona blanches. "Well, I-"

"How long?" Joker asks. His eyes haven't left the formless treasure. "Once we make him aware, how long will we have?"

"We'll have about twenty-four hours."

Joker sighs. "Fine. So, how do we make him aware that his desires are treasures?"

"We warn him. We send him a calling card."

Joker's eyes widen. "A calling card?"

Panther turns to him. "Something wrong?"

"N-no. It's nothing."

Skull straightens, his protestations forgotten. "We get to send out a calling card? Okay, that's pretty awesome. Oh, I get to make it!"

Panther rolls her eyes. "Fine, but you better not make it lame or something."

"No way! It's gonna be totally badass!"

"Don't go overboard, got it?" Mona asks. "Keep it simple. Kamoshida, we’re going to steal your twisted desires. Something like that."

Skull smirks. "Oh, I've got a few things I want to say to that asshat."

Joker straightens. "Then, we should go, right?"

Mona looks at him, frowning. "Well, yeah, I guess. Our infiltration route is secure, so once we send the calling card, we can just come back here and nab the Treasure."

"Alright. Let's get going then."

#

Ryuji waves goodbye as he disappears down into the subway.

Akira turns to Ann and says, "See you tomorrow." He sticks his hands in his pockets and begins to head for his train line.

"Hey, Akira. Hold on a second." When he turns back to her, Ann finds that she cannot meet his eyes. "Um, are you okay?"

He smiles and points to his bruises. "Yeah, they're fading already. In another few days I should be bearable to look at again."

"It's not that. Don’t get me wrong! That's good. That’s great! But not what I meant."

Morgana shifts his way out of Akira's bag and sets his forelegs on the boy’s shoulder. "What's wrong, Lady Ann?" He asks.

She stubs at the concrete of Shibuya station's floor with her toe. "I don't know. I mean, you seem fine now. But, when we were in the Palace, you were, _angry_."

He shrugs. "I guess I was. I really wanted to get to the treasure.”

She shakes her head. "We all wanted to get to the treasure. But you were, like, royally pissed off. Even when we were amongst ourselves, you had this look in your eye, and you didn't talk much, except to give orders."

Morgana's tails swishes in the air. "Well, Kamoshida did give him a severe beating the other day. It's only natural he'd be mad, right?"

"No, I know. But, well, you know you can talk to us, right, Akira?"

He grin widens. "Yeah, I know."

Ann shakes her head. "No, I mean, you can _talk_ to us. Me, Ryuji, even Morgana. This whole thing - what we're doing - it's totally crazy. I don't think we've ever really sat down and taken a second to think about that. So, if you need to vent or talk to us, we're here for you. We are your friends, after all."

Akira dips his head, sighs and says, "Thanks, Ann. The truth is, this whole thing freaks me out. You guys rely on me and I don't really know what I'm doing. I don't mean to be standoffish or nonresponsive when we're in there. I just really want to stop Kamoshida, before he does what he did to Shiho to anyone else.”

Her smile is short-lived. "You're not just telling me what I want to hear, are you?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No. I'm not that smart."

"Then, can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure."

"When Morgana mentioned the calling card, you looked a little… weird. Like, it shocked you, or something."

"Hey yeah," Morgana says, and leans further across Akira's shoulder. "I was wondering about that too. What's up?"

Akira looks Ann straight in the eye and says, "Sorry, I don't remember doing that."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

She nods, and bites her lower lip. "O-okay. I just wanted to make sure you were all good."

"I am. Thanks."

"Just, please remember. You can talk to us. Please. Remember that."

Akira smiles. "I will."

#

"So, how's school?" Sojiro asks. Akira looks up from the booth, where he sits with his homework. Morgana had insisted on his going to bed, but given how out of commission he'd been over the weekend, he needed to make up for some of the schoolwork. The cafe is closed, and Sojiro stands behind the bar, wiping it down with one hand. With his other, he dangles a piece of string down above 'Prince.' Despite his earlier insistence that the cat remain upstairs, he seems almost anxious to allow Morgana the run of the place once it’s closed.

"I mean," Sojiro says. "Aside from the whole, getting beaten up by other students thing?"

"It's good."

"Good." Sojiro nods. "Good." He lets the string go, and Morgana snaps his jaws around it and darts away. "So, listen." He stops wiping the bar down and just leans across it. "I know things must be tough for you, given your record and all. I was thinking, maybe you could help out around here."

"Oh. Like, a job?"

"Not quite," Sojiro says. "I don't exactly have the money to pay you. Well, that's not true. I do, but I won't." He smirks. "This is coming out weird. Look, if you want to get a part-time job or something, go for it. All I'm saying, is that I'd appreciate it if you helped out around the cafe. In exchange, I’ll teach you how to make the world's best curry, and the world's best cup of coffee."

Akira smiles and looks back down at his books. "Well, the curry _is_ good."

"Don't forget the coffee. Ladies love a man who knows how to make good coffee. And, just by lookin' at you, I can tell you need as much help with the ladies as you can get."

Akira shakes his head. "I'm not that bad."

Sojiro clicks his tongue. "Please. I've seen you moping around with that little 'yes sir, thank you sir,' attitude. Hell, when Takemi was here the first time you almost fainted. Trust me, you need some serious guidance in that department.”

"Wait, are you offering to show me how to make coffee, or pick up girls?"

Sojiro spreads his hands wide, and with a smile, says, "It's all connected." He picks up the rag and flings it over his shoulder. "Anyway, that's my proposition. Think about it. I'm heading out. Don't burn the place down while I'm gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, thanks for reading! Fuck the King!
> 
> UPDATED: Hey everyone! Short update! A couple of people have asked how often I update, so I just wanted to clear that up.
> 
> I update every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I live on the East Coast of the US, so I try to post the day's chapter early in the morning, before I go to work. So, I typically try to post somewhere between 7 and 8AM EST, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
> 
> If I plan on taking a break, like I did last week, I'll be sure to say something at least one week in advance.


	18. Regicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may want to cue up the soundtrack for this one.

4/26

Ryuji crouches in the alley outside Shujin. The sun is only just starting to light the clouds overhead. This is the earliest he's been awake since the track team disbanded. He's missed the quiet, and the cool caress of the air. A few students, mostly those from the archery and basketball clubs, have already entered the school. As Kamoshida monopolizes the gym after school, the morning is the only time some teams can practice.

His uniform is pressed and buttoned up. His mom had been so happy when he'd asked her to show him how to use the iron. Sure, once this business with Kamoshida was done, he'll go back to his old get-up. For this morning though, it's important that no one recognizes him. And Ryuji Sakamoto is not known for having a crisp, cleaned, well-ironed uniform.

Of course, his blonde hair presented a whole different challenge. He'd wound up going to a joke shop near Shibuya and purchasing a fake wig. It’s simple, not like those crazy ones modelled after anime characters. Short, brown hair that hugs his skull. It is uncomfortable, but that doesn’t matter.

He hefts his bag. "Alright," he says. "Let's do this."

Ryuji walks out of the alley in an approximation of the walk he's always seen good students use. He does not slouch. His hands are held at his sides. He wears a neutral look, as opposed to his usual scowl. A small handful of students climb the steps of Shujin, and none cast more than a cursory glance in his direction. His destination is not far. The bulletin boards just through the front doors.

Once inside, he pulls out his phone and leans against the wall. He smiles, as if he's just received a funny text message, and moves his fingers as if to reply.

The few students he entered alongside, turn the corner ahead, and are gone. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, darts up to the bulletin boards, and zips his bag open. He grabs the gloves he bought and pulls them on, then reaches in and withdraws a fistful of the calling cards. He's coated them with the same cheap adhesive his wig utilized, and when he presses them up on the board, a few slide down to the floor. It doesn't matter. There's too many for people _not_ to notice.

He spends, by his count, twenty seconds at his task. Then he whips around, rips his gloves off, shoves them back in his bag, and speed walks back out the entrance. Once he’s back in the alley, he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Hell yeah," he whispers to himself.

He takes out his phone and texts the group.

**_RYUJI_** : _MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!_

#

Kamoshida reads it again.

_Sir Suguru Kamoshida, the utter bastard of lust: We've watched you. We know all about the twisted shit you do to students who can't or won't fight back. Society might’ve given you a free pass, but we won't. We're going to steal your sick desires and make you confess your sins with your own mouth. Look forward to it, asshole. From, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_.

They are everywhere. Wherever he looks, students hold them. There must be a dozen scattered throughout the first floor hall alone.

"Fuck," he mutters.

What the hell did this mean? Did someone have evidence? How? He'd been _so_ careful. Had that Suzui bitch woken up? Who were the 'Phantom Thieves?' What were they?

Kamoshida hears the whispers and musters the harshest glare he can. "Get the hell to class!" He shouts. The hallway empties.

Save for two. At the end of the hall, Takamaki and Kurusu lounge against the wall like they belong there.

Both stare at him.

Both smile at him.

He can still see the bruises on Kurusu's face. _That little shit and that fucking whore!_ He starts off towards them, but the bell rings for homeroom and the two leave their little perch and beeline for their classroom.

Kamoshida stops. He could just march in there and demand they come with him. Who would stop him? _Wait. They're both in that Kawakami's class_.

He grimaces. That one. She was cute, but damn if she wasn't annoying. Every time she looked at him, her face scrunched up like she’d just swallowed something distasteful. If he went in there, she'd ask a million questions.

No. He needed to calm down.

_They can't actually do anything. This is all just some bullshit kid crap. They've got no real evidence. Nothing physical_. He wants to smile, but he can't. He can't shake the image of Kurusu's face, of that awful grin he'd given him.

_"We're coming for you, Your Majesty."_

Kamoshida shudders, and shakes his head to dash the image away. No. There's _nothing_ they can do to stop him. There's nothing _anyone_ can do to stop him. "Alright then, _Phantom Thieves_ , he says to no one. “Try it."

#

Makoto sits in class, one of the calling cards in her desk. She's read it a half dozen times. Nothing the teacher says sticks. To be fair, no one else looks like they're paying any attention either. She runs her thumb over the cheap paper once more. _What is this thing?_

What's more, her thoughts can't help but return to one specific person.

_Kurusu..._

He wouldn't do something like this. Or would he? Could he? What did any of it mean, anyway?

Makoto is not someone to speak out of turn in class, but she can't help it. Saying it in her head alone isn't enough. "What the _hell_ is going on?" She whispers.

#

The four thieves crouch on the balcony overlooking the Treasure Room. From their perch, they see that the treasure has materialized into the form of a giant, kitschy, red plush crown. The room swarms with guard shadows.

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Mona asks.

Panther nods. "Yep. I take the lead on this one, then you scatter them with Zorro."

"And Skull and I finish them off," Joker says, and smiles. "Sounds good."

"No questions then?" Mona asks.

Skull raises his hand. "I got one."

Mona sighs. "What is it?"

"Is no one going to bring up how awesome the calling card was?"

"Seriously?" Panther asks. "This is not the time!"

"Hey, I put a lot of effort into it. And I risked a hell of a lot getting into the school this morning." He crosses his arms, a pout on his face. "Someone could've said _something_ about it."

"Skull," Joker says. The thieves turn to look at their leader. He smirks. "The Calling Card was awesome. I especially liked the end. 'Look forward to it?' Perfect. And your infiltration of the school was brilliant.”

Panther frowns. "That was pretty impressive, actually. I'm kinda surprised you even thought to wear a disguise, even if it was just some cheap wig."

Skull beams. "That's what real thieves would do, right?" He drives a fist into his palm. "We gotta keep up our rep! You know, like those guys on the news from a few months ago. What were they called again? Tatter-"

“We should get moving,” Joker cuts in.

"Right," Mona says, glaring at each of the others. "Now that we're done massaging Skull's self-esteem, can we get on with this?”

Panther winks. "Leave it to me!" She vaults over the balcony. As she falls, she draws her submachine gun and begins to spray.

The bullets pepper into the guards, shattering the silence. A few duck behind their shields, while others fall in the hail. Some die in puffs of ash. Others try to raise themselves back up.

"Now, Mona!" Panther shouts as she lands.

The cat is already falling. "Zorro, Magaru!" Wind whips from the Persona and slams into the remaining shadows. Those that do not die are stolen from the floor and hurled into heaps upon the mounds of treasure.

Joker and Skull hit the floor seconds behind Mona, and dart forward.

"Wreck em, Cap!" Skull shouts and his Persona bursts forth, levels its cannon and sends bolt after bolt of lightning. Electric current rips through their enemies.

"Arsene!" The final strike comes in the form of the terrible and familiar black and red coils, retched from the Persona's sable, corvid wings.

A single, wailing moan is all the last shadow can manage before it evaporates.

"Treasure Room, secure!" Mona cries, and leaps into the air, waving his arms wildly.

"Now _that's_ an ambush!" Skull shouts, and high-fives Joker. "Nice shooting, Panther!"

She grins and throws up the 'V' sign. "We did it!"

Joker stands before the crown. "So this is it?" He asks. "Figures."

"Treasure…"

"How are we going to get this thing outta here?" Skull asks, taking it in. "It's freakin’ huge!"

"Treasure…"

Panther shrugs. "I guess we'll just have to lift it and carry it."

"If the shadows catch us we'll be in trouble. Mona, you got a plan, right?"

"Treasure!" The cat shouts and hurls himself at the crown. He flattens himself against the red leather and begins to rub his cheek into it. "Treasure!"

"Um, what's he doing?" Panther asks.

"Mona," Joker says, walking up to his friend. "You okay?"

Mona purrs.

Joker sighs, grabs him by the neck and yanks him away. "Mona!"

"H-hey!" The cat spasms in his hand. "What's the big idea?"

"You tell me. You were having a, I don't know, a _thing_ with the crown here."

"Put me down." Once back on the ground, Mona rubs his eyes and says, "Okay, enough fooling around. We need to get this thing out of here."

"How?"

"We carry it," Mona says. "How else?"

Panther sighs. "I was afraid you'd say that."

#

Joker, Panther, and Skull hoist the crown off the floor between them, and begin to car it out. Mona takes point out of the Treasure Room, and into the Throne Room.

Halfway down the gaudy rosy carpet, a volleyball hurtles through the air, smashes into the crown, and sends it flying from the hands of the thieves.

"What the hell?" Skull shouts

Joker spins about in time to see a caped figure arch through the air over them, and land in a crouch alongside the throne.

Kamoshida straightens, and extends his hand. The crowd pulsates, shrinks to the size of a melon, and catapults through the air and into his palm.

His golden pupils are rimmed by the mad whites of his eyes. His lips are curled into a snarl. "This is mine!" He shouts, voice cracking. "Mine! I earned this! I've earned the rights this gives me! That's what makes me King! No one can have it!"

Skull shakes his head. "Man, now who sounds like a little bitch?"

Panther unfurls her whip. "Give it up, Kamoshida! We're taking that whether you like it or not."

"No, no, no, no, no! No! NO! NO! NO!" Kamoshida screams. He hunches over, his breathing ragged and hollow. "What don't you get? This is how it works! ALL OF IT! If I achieve results, I get to do what I want! It's right! It's fair! That's what I do! I achieve! Everything else is compensatory! That's why no one ever stops me!"

"What you did to Shiho wasn’t right or fair!" Panther shouts back.

The scowl becomes a juvenile little smirk. "Yes it was. She wanted it. You all do." He spreads his arms wide. "You _all_ do! Why wouldn't you? Look at me! I'm a success! I'm attractive! I have a _legacy_! What do any of you little shits have?"

Joker draws the pistol from his coat and aims. "A soul."

He pulls the trigger.

Kamoshida's head snaps back. An awful, still second passes, and then his body collapses before his throne.

Skull blinks, and looks at his friend. "Dude."

"That conversation was pointless," Joker says, and holsters his weapon. "Let's take the treasure and get out of here." He starts up the steps. Then the laughter begins.

Kamoshida's head snaps up, a red hole in the center of his forehead. "Fine," he howls, between manic bursts of glee. As if pulled by strings, he lifts off the ground and returns to his feet. "Fine! No more guards! I'll kill you damn thieves myself! After all, this is _my_ castle!  This is _my_ world! My _rules_!"

His scream rises in pitch until it becomes a distorted, cataclysmic wail. Joker leaps away as Kamoshida _expands_.

His skin turns a viscous pink and two additional arms burst from his stomach. His face deforms until his mouth becomes an animalistic caricature, and a slick purple tongue the size of an automobile lolls from it and pendulums through the air. His hair shrinks _into_ his skull, and a twin set of horns bursts from the round, sick dome. Upon this rests the crown. A trophy materializes between his thighs, pairs and pairs of squirming feminine legs flailing about like maggots. In one arm, he clutches a fork, in another, an enormous glass of red wine. Yet another holds a sword, while the last of his limbs grips a dinner knife. The eyes in his head are bulbous and bloodshot. His head tilts back, and another screech shakes the room.

"Holy hell!" Skull shouts. "Are you freakin' kidding me?"

"This is his shadow's true form," Mona says, as he backs away. "His true power."

"Don't you little shits understand who I am?" The thing roars. "I AM KAMOSHIDA!" It swings its sword. The blade slices through the air and the thieves fling themselves away.

"How are we supposed to get the Treasure away from that thing?" Panther asks, once she’s regained her footing.

Joker pulls out his gun and fires, but the bullets ricochet harmlessly off the king's hide. "Damn."

"Screw this," Skull shouts, and runs forward. "Fry em, Captain!" His Persona materializes, and hits Kamoshida with a bolt of electricity, but the thing barely flinches.

Instead, it thrusts its golden knife at him.

"Crap!" Skull shouts, and steps aside in time, but not quick enough to avoid the flat of the dagger. It smashes into him and sends him cartwheeling through the air. He lands in a heap by the feet of the other thieves.

"Skull!" Panther shouts, running up to his side.

"You should've learned your place long ago, Sakamoto!" The thing that is Kamoshida screams.

Mona hits Skull with a Dia, and the four stare up at the thing.

"What now?" Panther asks.

#

Joker slings back one of Takemi's medicines and feels it work its strange magic on his ribs. _Thank God for cognition_. He peeks out from behind the pillar he hides behind. Skull fires blast after useless blast of his shotgun into the body of Kamoshida, who roars and swipes at him with the sword once more.

Skull ducks and hobbles away. He's already taken a few hits, but has run out of medicine. If this doesn't work, it'll be bad.

"Get back here, you little-" Kamoshida starts, but his words die in a grunt as a wave of fire rushes up his back. He shifts his gargantuan form around and spots Panther. His grotesque face breaks into a grin. "There you are! Get your sexy ass over here!" Panther sprints to the side, and Kamoshida begins to crawl his way after her.

_Now_.

Joker ducks out from behind the pillar, runs for the spot behind Kamoshida's legs and shouts, "Andras!" The avian Persona appears before him, and with a beat of its wings, an icy wind bursts forth and swaddles the trophy. Frost strangles it, and Joker hunches over as his Persona vanishes, and throws himself at the object. His knife punches through the ice, and with a grunt, he thrusts it upward. The rime cracks, and the perverted trophy shatters.

Kamoshida screams as Joker rolls away. The sword, the knife, the fork, they all crash and spark across the spot he’d just occupied.

"Alright!" Panther shouts, coming around his side.

"Nice dude!" Skull pants, his hands on his knees.

Kamoshida _ate_ the female legs from the trophy. He _ate_ them. Somehow, doing so had a regenerative effect, so no matter how much damage they did to his body, so long as he could consume those limbs, he wouldn't go down.

Kamoshida's massive form scuttles towards the three, who have been backed into the corner of the throne room. "I'll kill you for that, you little fucks! How **_DARE_** you destroy what's mine?"

He raises his weapons into the air, and-

"Now, Mona!"

From where he sits, perched on the chandelier above, Mona smirks. "About time!" He takes a running start, then hurls himself down, directly at Kamoshida's crown.

He smashes into the side of it, and the massive bejeweled thing flies off Kamoshida’s head, and clatters to the floor, further down the hall.

All his hands drop their weapons, and reach for the now bare spot on his head. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Where is it? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He sees the crown where it lays and begins to drag himself towards it. His voice shrinks to a whimper, "My treasure. Give it back!"

Joker smiles. "Hit him with everything!"

"Carmen!"

"Zorro!"

"Captain Kidd!"

"Arsene!"

As he inches towards his crown, Kamoshida is blitzed with flames, lightning, biting winds, sharp, piercing tendrils, and then the stings of Panther's whip, the bruisings of Skull's pipe, and the stabs of Mona and Joker's blades.

Still he tries to reach his crown, but as the attacks pummel him ceaselessly, all the creature can do at last is stretch out one clawed hand in a last, halting effort, before it drops to the ground and is still.

With one final scathing scream, the monstrous form of Suguru Kamoshida disappears in a great burst of ash.

The thieves are still and stare at the pile, until the deflated form of Kamoshida's shadow digs itself out, and caked in coat of smoky dust, falls back and begins to scramble away.

Panther and Skull glance at one another, then both stalk over to the sniveling thing.

"P-please," Kamoshida says, and raises a hand in supplication. "Please, stop."

Skull stomps his boot down onto Kamoshida’s leg kneecap. The shadow throws his head back and screams. "What's wrong?" Skull shouts over Kamoshida’s cry. "Somethin' wrong with your leg, asshole?"

The man shakes his head back and forth. "They just kept pushing!" He shouts, spit flying with every word. "Every time I achieved something, they just kept giving me more responsibility! Don't you understand? I couldn't keep up! There was always some other hurdle, some other mountaintop!" He looks up at two teens with a sad little smile on his face. "All I've done was for them, so is it so wrong to ask for a reward?"

Panther looks down at him, and raises her submachine gun. She presses the muzzle into Kamoshida's outstretched hand. "This is for every girl you touched." She squeezes the trigger and a single round punches its way through. Bone, black blood and cartilage bursts from the hole in Kamoshida’s hand and it flops to the floor, useless. Kamoshida screams grow.

She trains her weapon on his other hand. “This is for every student you tortured and abused.” This time, it is a short burst, but the bullets eviscerate the shadow’s hand into a swath of useless meat and black ooze.

"STOP IT!" Kamoshida begs. "PLEASE!"

She aims at his head. "And this is for Shiho." She squeezes the trigger. At the last moment, she averts the muzzle, and the bullets bite into the tile around the King’s head, splintering the floor and sending shards flying every which way. Some bury themselves into Kamoshida’s scalp, burrowing through his hair, cheek and forehead, until black drenches his face like a shroud.

Panther empties her weapon, and lowers it. Kamoshida gasps, blinking, black in his eyes.

Skull takes his foot from Kamoshida's leg. "You're not worth it, asshole."

Panther regards the shrapnel ornamentation in the man’s head. “This is the only crown you deserve,” she whispers. Then, to Joker, "Have you got the treasure?"

Once Kamoshida had been defeated, the crown had shrunken to the size of a baseball cap. Joker holds it in his left hand. "Yep."

She nods, and presses one stiletto-heeled boot down onto Kamoshida's chest. The man trembles. "We stole it, Kamoshida. Whatever twists you up inside. It's ours now. So, listen up. I don't know how all this works, but you're going to get yourself - your real self - to confess to everything. All your crimes. _All_ of them."

The thing nods. "Alright. I will. I swear."

“Atone, you bastard. For everything.”

A strange look comes over Kamoshida's face. It features settle. He begins to glow a pale white, and starts to fade away. "I will," he says, as he vanishes. "I promise."

Panther's boot clicks against the floor.

Joker reaches out a free hand and rests it on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She looks at him and smiles. "Totally. This means, we did it, right?"

The room begins to quake. "Actually," Mona shouts as a piece of the ceiling crumbles and dashes to the ground. " _This_ means we did it!"

"What the hell, Mona?" Skull shouts. "You said the palace would disappear once we stole the treasure!"

"I said it would 'collapse!' What did you think ‘collapse’ meant?"

"Just, run!" Joker shouts, and the four beat it for the exit.

#

_It's really rather simple._ Kamoshida smiles to himself as he descends the stairs. Some people - trash - refuse to accept their lot in life. They need to leech off of people like him.

They're dross. Pointless in the larger scheme of things.

Frankly, they should be culled.

Kamoshida has heard things. Rumors whispered here and there, about certain groups who can make certain problems go away. Of course, he's heard of the 'mental shutdown' phenomenon, but it's never been something he's given much thought to.

_But_.

If those rumors are true, maybe there is someone behind them. And if they could be contacted, maybe they could ‘disappear’ his student troubles.

"Why not?" He asks himself. If they refuse to accept their place, who needs them?

He couldn't do anything himself. There were limits to his influence. But an outside party? They could handle those brats. Takamaki, Sakamoto, and Kurusu. Even if they were planning something, even if they could do something, it wouldn't matter once they were dead.

Once they were dead.

Once they were dead.

Once they were dead.

_Dead?_

Kamoshida stops. He grasps the stairwell's handrail. If he can contact these people, he can get them to _kill_ those students.

_Kill_.

He's thinking of killing students.

He's thinking of _killing students!_

Sweat leaks from his forehead and drips down his face. His breath comes in ragged gasps. He sits on the steps.

_What am I doing? What am I thinking?_

What has he done?

He sees their faces, one after another. Their horrified expressions, the blood and bruises upon their bodies. He sees Shiho Suzui, and sees her tears as he'd climbed on top of her.

_Oh my god_.

The girl had tried to kill herself because of him!

How? How could he have done all this? Why?

He drops his head into his hands and begins to sob. "Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god!"

_What have I done?_

#

They sit against the walls of the alley. No one says anything for some time. Morgana lies curled up besides Akira. Ann and Ryuji sit across from him, leaning against each other, their eyes closed, their mouths opened as they suck in air.

It had been a close call, their flight from the castle. At one point, Ryuji had tripped, and Akira had felt his heart seize. But then the boy had stood up, and pushed his way through the pain, and all four had emerged into the light of reality.

It takes a while before Akira realizes he's not holding the crown anymore. "Hey," he says. "Check it out." He holds up, instead, a gold medal with a red lanyard strung through it.

"The hell?" Ryuji asks, straightening. "I thought it was a crown."

"This is the true form of the treasure," Morgana says. "It's what his distorted desires originated from."

"His Olympic medal," Ann says, and shakes her head. "I guess if you're looking to inflate someone's ego, that's one way to do it."

Ryuji groans. "So, like, did we win?"

"We stole the treasure," Akira replies. He looks down at Morgana. "That means we changed his heart, right?"

The cat nods. "It should. The Palace collapsed, just like I knew it would. I suppose now we just have to wait and see if Kamoshida has changed."

Ryuji sighs. "I wish we could know right now."

"Me too," Ann says. She straightens and stands. "So, what're we supposed to do now?"

"I'd celebrate," Ryuji says. "But I'm exhausted. I don't think I can even make it home. How about we call it a day? Tomorrow, we'll know for sure, yeah?"

"Yeah," Akira says. He scoops up Morgana and deposits him into his bag. "I'd say we deserve a break."

Ann smirks. "Totally. If this does work, we should absolutely have a party."

"A party, huh?" Ryuji grins. "I like the sound of that."

"Oh! Oh!" Morgana puts in, his little head popping from Akira's bag. "I want fatty tuna! Let's go somewhere where I can get some."

The four chuckle and then descend back into silence. It is Ann that breaks it. "Are we gonna be okay? I mean, it feels like we won, but did we really?"

Akira looks at the Olympic medal in his hand. It really is a small thing. "I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! And we're done! Man, it's hard to believe it's taken this long to get to the Kamoshida fight. I hope you all enjoyed it! Feel free to comment, I love hearing from you guys, and as always, thanks for reading and sharing! Have a great weekend, and I'll see you all on Monday!


	19. Nascence

4/27

The man's smile sparkles. He beams it to the studio audience, then throws his hands in the air as the show's intro music – a flamboyant remix of a trending pop song - kicks in. "Welcome, Welcome, Welcome Back! It's another episode of 'Tokyo Girls and Country Boys!'"

Thunderous applause and screams - mostly feminine - from the audience.

"I'm your host, Tatsuya Ota!"

"Ota! Ota!" Everyone screams.

The man laughs and bows his head. "Thank you, thank you. My adoring fans. Always willing to chant my name, despite my never actually doing anything." The crowd laughs. He lets them, then holds up a single finger. Silence reigns.

"Now then, I think we should begin! You all know the rules. We will introduce three boys from the country, and three girls from Tokyo. Then you, yes _you_ the audience, will vote. You will pair one guy with one of the girls, and those two will go on a date! And hopefully _we_ get to see some sparks fly!"

Whispers spread amongst the crowd.

"Now, now, don't go getting excited just yet!" Ota shouts. Everyone laughs. It is, in fact, the same laugh as before.

"It's time to introduce our first guy!" He swings around in his chair and motions to one of the armchairs behind him. "Tell us who you are, Kurusu-kun!"

The spotlight refocuses. Akira Kurusu smiles out at the crowd. He nods and holds up his fingers in a 'V.' "Hello," he says, loud and clear. "My name is Akira Kurusu. I'm seventeen years old. I just moved to Tokyo from the country. I attend Shujin Academy. My ideal girlfriend would be someone who speaks her mind, is cute, and goal oriented." He stands and bows. "Please treat me well with your voting!"

The crowd laughs.

That same laugh.

Akira sits down. Ota chuckles and smiles warmly at him. "A fantastic introduction, Kurusu-kun!"

"Thank you, Ota-san!"

"But, I have to ask a question, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Akira says. "Please, ask away."

"Why are you lying to us?"

The crowd is silent.

Akira blinks. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Why are you lying to us?" Ota asks. His smile is no longer warm. It is a cheap plastic thing, glued on a dummy. "Why are you lying to us?"

Akira shakes his head. He looks out at the audience. He can't see any of their faces. They are silent, still silhouettes. "I'm not lying."

"Why are you lying to us?"

He looks back at Ota. The man's skin is too smooth. It has no pores. "What am I lying about?" He asks. His breath is coming quicker now. His heartbeat too.

Ota's head tilts to the side, farther than a human head can tilt. "Who are you, Kurusu-kun?"

"I'm Akira Kurusu. I'm seventeen years old. I just moved to Tokyo-"

"Why are you lying to us?"

"-from the country. I attend Shujin Academy. My ideal-"

"Who are you?"

"-girlfriend would be someone who speaks her mind, is cute-"

"Who are you?"

"-and goal oriented."

"Why are you lying to us?"

Akira looks out into the audience once more, but he cannot make anything out. "My name is Akira Kurusu. I'm seventeen years old. I just-"

"Who are you?"

"-moved to Tokyo from the country." He spots a cameraman. It is himself, Akira Kurusu. Only, this figure wears a sable overcoat, blood-red gloves on his hand, slick shoes. On his face - Akira's face - he wears an ivory mask.

Joker smiles at Akira. "Who are you, Akira?"

Akira wakes, and sits up in bed. His clothes are soaked in sweat.

Morgana lays curled alongside him, undisturbed.

Outside, the sun begins to rise.

#

"This is killin' me," Ryuji groans. "If the guy's had a change of heart, that's great. But the least he could do is tell us if we're still expelled or not!"

The four lounge on the school’s rooftop. When the discarded lawn chairs are stood up and brought together, it's a surprisingly nice spot.

Ann flicks through her phone. "Everyone's talking about his leave of absence, but no one thinks it's anything serious." She sticks out her tongue. "Bleh. A few are actually worried about him."

Morgana lays on his back, purring in the sunlight. "Don't get down, guys. We stole Kamoshida's treasure. His Palace collapsed. He had a change of heart, I'm sure of it. We just have to wait."

"That's the hard part," Akira says, hand on his chin. "I'm with Ryuji. I want to know if I'm getting kicked out of school. Again."

Morgana and Ann glance at each other. "Hey, Akira?" Ann asks. "I've been meaning to ask about that."

"About what?"

"Like, the whole story with you. I mean, I saw your record and stuff online, but that's obviously not the whole story."

Akira blinks. "I didn't tell you guys?"

Morgana shakes his head. "I don't know about it either."

Ryuji beams. "He told me."

"No one asked you," Ann says, with a pout on her face. She looks back at Akira. "If it's okay with you, would you mind telling us?"

Akira shrugs. "Sure, I don't mind."

He tells his story, and everyone makes the same protestations. Even Ryuji, who has heard all this before, gets mad all over again. Ann and Morgana shake their heads, and then a voice says, "Whoa. So that's what happened."

Everyone jumps. "Who's there?" Ann shouts, dropping into a poor approximation of a fighting stance.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Open-palmed hands poke out from behind the roof's entrance. Mishima steps out from behind, his eyes on the ground, face pale. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Geez, dude!" Ryuji shouts. "Are you a freakin' ninja? How long have you been there?"

Mishima lowers his hands and nods towards the door. "I came up a little while ago. I was about to announce myself, but then Kurusu started talking and I would've felt bad about interrupting." He blinks and stares at Morgana. "Is that a cat?"

"Don't worry," Morgana says. "He can't understand me. He hasn't been to the Metaverse."

"He's Akira's," Ryuji says.

"What're you doing here?" Ann asks.

"Um," Mishima says. "I just, well, the thing is..." He gulps, stiffens and bows. "I'm very sorry!"

The four look at each other. "Who're you bowing to?" Akira asks.

"All of you. I'm very, very sorry! For everything." He lifts his head and looks at Ann. "I'm sorry, Takamaki. I knew what Kamoshida was doing. I knew how bad he was, and I never did anything about it. And because I kept my mouth shut, all that horrible stuff happened to Suzui." He looks at Akira. "And I'm sorry I put your stuff online. Kamoshida made me do it, but if I was braver, I wouldn't have. Then, no one would know about you and you wouldn't have to listen to everyone bad mouth you all the time." He looks at Ryuji. "And I'm sorry to you too, Sakamoto. If I'd come forward when you'd first pressured me, then maybe Suzui wouldn't have jumped. Maybe she'd be fine now." He lowers his head, and keeps his body stiff and bent.

Ann is the first to speak. "It's okay," she says, with a sigh. "I mean, I knew what he was like too. And I didn't do anything either."

Ryuji clears his throat. "Yeah. I've known what he was like since last year. But it's not like I stopped him or anything. If I'd done something back then, something _else_ , then maybe we wouldn't be here."

Akira nods. "You're a victim too. Don't forget that."

"But still," Mishima says. "There must've been something I could've done. But I never did. I'm sorry."

Ryuji smiles. "C'mon dude, stop bowing. People keep doing that to me lately and it's making me uncomfortable."

Mishima straightens, and his eyes are red-rimmed as if he's about to cry, but no tears fall. "I just wanted you all to know."

"Hey," Ann says. "How'd you know we were up here anyway?"

Mishima's face turns red. "Well, I've been building up the courage to say this all day. So when school ended, I sort of followed you guys up here. I'd been standing outside that door for a while." He sighs. "Not like my apology means anything. We're still going to get expelled for all this."

Ryuji chuckles. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Certain 'parties' have dealt with Kamoshida."

"Shut up, you idiot!" Morgana yowls. Ann and Akira turn their glares on him.

"What?" He asks.

Despite their solitude, Mishima's next words are whispered. "Are you talking about the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?"

Ann belts out a laugh. "Like, the what?"

Mishima frowns. "Oh, come on. You obviously know what I mean. There was that calling card yesterday and everything. I thought it was just a prank. Is that what you're talking about, Sakamoto?"

Ryuji shrugs. "Maybe." Morgana juts out a paw and slashes him across the back of his hand. "Ow! What the hell, Mona?"

"Stop blabbing," Morgana shouts.

"I didn't blab!" He blinks and looks up at Mishima, who watches him with furrowed brows. "I mean, uh, bad cat."

Akira sighs and stands. "Yuuki," he says. Mishima's eyes widen at the sound of his name. He steps up to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "I forgive you. For posting my information online."

"Y-you do?"

Akira nods and smiles. "Kamoshida forced you to do it. I know you'd have never done it otherwise. As for the expulsion?" He lowers his hand and shrugs. "At least if we get kicked out, we all get kicked out together. Plenty of free time to hang out. I've been dying to check out some Tokyo arcades."

Mishima smiles. "I could show you those."

Ryuji and Ann glance at each other. Both shrug.

"Cool," Akira says. "So don't worry, alright? Everything will be fine, one way or another."

"O-okay," Mishima says, grinning. "I'll, uh, leave you guys alone now. Thank you for forgiving me!" He bows once more, turns and heads out the door.

Akira frowns and sits back down.

"You really gonna hang out with Mishima?" Ryuji asks.

Akira shrugs. "I don't know. I'm still pretty pissed. I mean, he posted all my stuff online."

Ann blinks. "You just said you forgave him."

"Well, he wasn't going to leave otherwise. And we didn't want him to keep asking about the whole Phantom Thieves business."

"Damn dude," Ryuji says. He chuckles, but there's an uneasy edge to it. "That's kinda cold."

Akira remembers his dream.

_Who are you?_

He shrugs.

Ann's phone vibrates. She takes it out and purses her lips. "Oh."

"What's up?" Ryuji asks.

"There's a shoot in town, and one of the other girls just dropped out last minute. They want to know if I can come by and fill in for her."

Morgana's jaw drops. "You're a model, Lady Ann?"

She nods and grins. "Mmhmm. I should get going."

"This, uh, this 'shoot' as you call it," Morgana says. "It's probably pretty far away, right?"

She shakes her head. "No. Actually, it's only a few blocks away. I won't even have to take the subway to get there."

"I see," Morgana says.

"Later guys, text me if anything comes up."

"See ya," Ryuji says.

"Bye," Akira says.

Ann opens the door and disappears through it. Morgana stares at the door for a few moments. "I'm gonna go scope out the neighborhood for a while." He turns back to Akira. "I'll meet up with you later." Then he darts away.

"Weird," Ryuji says, and then his face brightens. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I started putting together that workout plan I was telling you about."

"Oh yeah?"

Ryuji stands, fists clenched. "No time like the present, right? Come on, let's get started!"

"Right now?" Akira asks. He hadn't planned on getting any exercise in today.

Ryuji nods. "I can't sit around waiting, dude. I gotta move! You're with me, right?"

Akira smiles and stands. "Okay. Let's do it."

#

The two boys make several circuits around the school, before they collapse in a heap against the outside wall of the gym. "Man," Ryuji groans. "I'm really outta shape."

Akira takes a few deep breaths. "It's crazy, how much fitter we are in the Metaverse."

"I know, right? That's the reason I want to do this. So we can be even tougher over there." He frowns. "But I guess that's kind of pointless now."

"What'd you mean?"

Ryuji shrugs. "If Kamoshida's heart changed, is there a point to going back there? Actually, his Palace collapsed, so _can_ we even go back?"

Akira pulls out his phone. "That app is still here."

Ryuji nods. "Yeah, it's on mine too. I haven't tried it out since yesterday though. Too nervous." He chuckles. Then, his face grows somber. "I have to level with you about something, dude."

Akira, his breath finally returning to normal, says, "What's up?"

"Remember yesterday, when we were running out of the Palace, and I fell?"

Akira nods. It had been a quick thing, just a short trip. Ryuji might've been on the ground for no more than a second or two. Then he had pushed himself back up and kept going.

"Well, I didn't really trip. It was my leg. The one Kamoshida broke. Ever since we started going to the Palace, it's been acting up."

"Like, hurting?" Akira asks. Ryuji nods. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want people to worry about me. I didn't want to be a burden. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I was fine. Even when it hurt, I could stomach it, ya know? But when we were full on sprinting out of there? It just gave out for a second. I nearly pissed myself." He pauses. "You know how, sometimes, you have a really big thought, all at once, a lot faster than you'd be able to speak it?"

"I think so," Akira says, then nods. "No, I know what you mean. Like, when you look at someone and you immediately know something about them."

"Yeah, kinda. Well, when I fell, I remember thinking, 'This is it. Kamoshida's gonna get me after all.'"

Akira leans forward, and folds his hands together. "To be honest, when you fell, I was scared too."

"For real?"

Akira nods. "I don't really remember what I thought, but I don't think I could _think_ anything at that point. I just really didn't want to die, and I didn't want any of you guys to die either."

Ryuji smirks. "Then I guess it's a good thing I didn't."

Akira smiles, but he doesn't feel anything behind it.

"So, that's another reason why I wanted to do this today." Ryuji reaches down and starts to massage his leg. "I want to get stronger. I want to be able to run again without having to worry about my leg giving out, like yesterday." He frowns and averts his eyes. "So, if it's cool with you, could you help me with that? Training is easier when you've got someone to do it with."

Akira grins. "Of course."

#

"So," Akira asks as they near LeBlanc. "How was Ann's shoot?"

Morgana squirms from inside the bag. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right.”

He speaks, but his mind is elsewhere. He's barely had any time to process the Palace's collapse. Or his dream. He can still see himself, as Joker, smirking over at him from behind the camera. _Who are you?_

And what did the collapse of Kamoshida's Palace mean? Were they done with the Metaverse now? Had the man really changed?

He opens the door to LeBlanc and steps inside. It is early enough that the cafe is still open, but there are no present customers.

"Something wrong?" Sojiro asks, from behind the counter.

Akira looks over at him. "Huh?"

"Your face is all scrunched up. Is it a girl?”

"Oh. No, it's not."

Sojiro smiles. "Uh-huh. It's a girl."

Akira frowns. "I'm serious. It's not a girl."

"If something is making you look that anxious, and it's _not_ a girl, you've got a sad life, kid." He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "Go and put Prince upstairs. I'll give you your first real lesson. Like I said, ladies love a man who can make coffee."

_Guess I'm doing this now_. Akira nods. As he walks past Sojiro, he asks, "What if someone doesn't like coffee?"

"Everyone likes coffee, some people just don't know it yet."

When Akira returns from upstairs, a woman sits at the bar. She is in her mid-thirties, wears a drab, brown suit and worn out loafers. Despite this, her makeup is expertly applied. Her black hair is done up in a ponytail with side fringe. She beams at Sojiro. The man's return smile is less intense, but smooth. His eyes are half-lidded.

"...a fan myself, of course," he says, an easy lilt to his voice.

The woman laughs. "Soji-chan, you're so funny!"

Akira blinks. _Soji-chan? What is happening right now?_

The woman turns to Akira. "Oh, this must be your new apprentice."

Sojiro chuckles. "Apprentice may be overstating it a bit. He lives upstairs. Helps me out from time to time, when he's not getting into trouble at school."

She frowns. "Are you making trouble for Soji-chan?" She asks Akira.

"N-no," Akira replies, as he steps behind the bar.

Sojiro shakes his head. "I'm just teasing him, Handa-san."

The woman pouts. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Yuriko?"

The man regards her over the tops of his glasses. "Maybe just once more." He winks.

The woman reddens, giggles, and takes a sip of her coffee. "You're so mean."

"If that's true, why do you keep coming back?"

The tint in her cheek intensifies. She laughs. "Stop teasing me!"

Akira stands and watches this exchange. _Seriously, what is happening right now?_

Sojiro turns to him and says, "Alright, time for a lesson. Grab an apron from the kitchen and put it on. I'm going to show you the basics today."

"Oooh," the woman whispers. "A lesson from the great Sakura-san. I'm jealous."

Sojiro walks him up and down the bar. He instructs him on the multiple instruments utilized in brewing coffee. Akira, despite himself, is impressed. He'd no idea there were so many steps involved.

"Oh sure," Sojiro says, when Akira brings this up. "You _could_ just get instant coffee. Buy some of those 'k' things they've got over in the States. But where's the majesty in that?"

"Majesty?" Akira asks.

Sojiro reaches into one of the bean carriers and withdraws a handful of the small brown pellets. "These beans were planted and harvested by men and women beneath a burning sun. They were inspected, packaged and shipped halfway across the world to specific vendors. These vendors rise in the early AM to make it to the markets where they sell them. People like me buy them, bring them here, and painstakingly squeeze the liquid bliss from them. We owe it to those vendors, to those harvesters, and to ourselves to treat these beans with the respect they deserve. With the majesty they've earned. Coffee that takes ten seconds to brew diminishes all that."

Akira blinks. "Oh."

The woman at the bar swoons. "Wow."

Sojiro deposits the beans back into the carrier. "That's why I'm so concerned with doing things the proper way. We owe it to those who came before."

The woman takes another sip of her coffee and whispers, "I never knew supply chains could be so romantic."

"Do you understand now?" Sojiro asks Akira.

"I think so. I mean, I've never thought of coffee like that before." He smiles. "It's pretty cool."

Sojiro rolls his eyes. "Don't get all sentimental on me."

The woman stands. "Soji-chan, I've got to get going. Thank you so much for the coffee!"

Sojiro slips past Akira and makes his way down the bar towards her. "Please come again, Handa-san." He smiles that same, cool smirk.

She averts her eyes. "One of these days, Soji-chan, you're going to call me Yuriko. Count on it." She straightens, picks up her purse, and walks out the door.

"Okay," Akira says, once she's gone. "I have to know. What was up with that?"

Sojiro picks the money up off the table. "Customer service."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No confession today, just some creepy dreams and coffee dads. As always, thank you for reading Crimson, and thank you to everyone that has recommended it to others, commented, left a Kudo, or subscribed to it. You people are saints in a world of madmen.
> 
> Now, I want to level with you guys about something. Next week, the week of the 21st, is the week of my finals. The chapters for this week are ready to be posted, but because I've got to buckle down and study, I don't know how much writing I'll be able to do. As such, I'm considering reducing next week's posts from three, down to two. Nothing crazy, but I think it'll help me maintain my three week buffer, so that I don't have to rush through any chapters. Anyway, it'll depend on how the studying goes. If it goes smoothly, and I can still find time to write, then there's no problem. If not, then I'll either post on Monday and Friday of next week, or Tuesday and Thursday, to change things up.
> 
> And there's another thing I should let you guys know about. I'm getting married in mid-September. Right afterwards, we'll be going on our honeymoon. So for two weeks, I won't be doing any writing, and I probably won't have the best internet connection. I'll see if there's a way around it, but most likely, there won't be any updates for the weeks of September 18th and September 25th. I'd like to, if I can, find a way to reduce that to just one week without posts, but I can't make any guarantees.
> 
> I wanted to give you all a heads up, so you don't think I vanished or anything. I'm having an absolute blast writing Crimson, and I've really enjoyed talking with a lot of you. I have no intention of stopping.
> 
> Anyway, that's all I've got to say. Have a good Monday, and I'll see you on Wednesday!


	20. Regrets

4/28

"Dammit!" Ryuji shouts and slaps his legs. He is hunched over, and takes deep, dry breaths. "I'm slow as shit."

Akira leans against the courtyard's wall. He is soaked in sweat, and at Ryuji's protestation, regards his friend with wide eyes behind his fogged up glasses. "You call that slow?"

Near the end of their jog, Ryuji had taken off at a pace Akira's mind had quickly dubbed, 'lightning-like.' He'd blown ahead of Akira, legs and arms pumping in almost mechanical fashion, breathing synchronized.

Ryuji shakes his head. "This is nothing compared to how I used to be. The me from a year ago could run circles around the me now."

"Geez," Akira says. "You must've been really fast."

Ryuji shrugs and straightens. "I guess."

It is the second day of Kamoshida's leave of absence, and the school continues to buzz. After school, Ann had gone to visit Shiho - still comatose - in the hospital. Morgana had taken to wandering around the neighborhood, and Ryuji, unable to cope with his nerves, had insisted Akira join him in another bout of training.

"Want to grab something to eat?" Akira asks, then discreetly sniffs himself. "After a shower, of course."

"Nah man, we gotta stretch first," Ryuji says, grinning. "Can't let your muscles stay tight and all."

He barely recalls Ryuji's instructions from the day before, so Akira has his friend walk him through each stretch once more. Admittedly, it feels good.

Once done, Ryuji plops onto the ground, spread-eagle on his back and stares up at the sky. "It's going to take me a long ass time to get back into shape." Akira, figuring that they won't be moving for a time, sits in the grass alongside him. "That was one great thing about being on the team. Daily practices. You couldn't help but develop good habits from that."

"Do you miss it?" Akira asks.

"What, the track team?" Akira nods. "Sometimes. I mean, I don't miss the crazy shit Kamoshida made us do. But before that? Yeah, I kinda do." He lets out a long sigh. "Oh well. All that's in the past, dude."

"And if we changed Kamoshida's heart, no one will have to go through that again."

Ryuji grins. "Hell yeah! But this waiting is wrecking my nerves! I had some crazy nightmare last night where Kamoshida was chasing me through a forest."

Akira recalls his own recent nightmares. "It's hard for all of us. The other night, I-"

"Hey!"

The two friends glance in the direction of the shout. A trio of lean, grimacing boys stalk towards them from across the courtyard.

"Ah, crap," Ryuji groans.

"What's going on?" Akira asks.

Ryuji sits up, then stands, a frown on his face. "Old friends," he mumbles.

The trio reaches them as Akira gets upright, and the lead boy, tanned and chestnut haired, glares at Ryuji. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Sakamoto?" He spits Ryuji's name like a curse.

"Yo, Nakaoka," he says, then nods at the other two. "Guys."

"Are you seriously running?" Nakaoka asks. "Here? At the school?"

Ryuji lets out a sigh and turns his eyes to the ground. "We really gotta do this?"

Nakaoka takes another step forward, and Akira feels himself tense. "The track traitor's got no business running around here! Not after everything you did."

"Yeah," says one of the other boys. "You're not welcome on the team, and you're not welcome here. This is where we train now."

Ryuji blinks. "The team? The hell are you talking about?"

Nakaoka spreads his hands and rolls his eyes. "What a surprise, Sakamoto's got no idea what's going on. Listen, jerk. Ever since our team got disbanded, because of you, we've had to train where we can. And it just so happens that this spot, is _ours_."

Akira opens his mouth, but Ryuji speaks up before he can reply. "Fine, we'll find somewhere else on campus to train."

Nakaoka shakes his head. "You're not getting it. The whole campus is ours. We're forced to train when and where we can. So we'll take any spot we can get our hands on. And we better not see you running anywhere around here."

Akira's face is red, but he keeps quiet. His hands have balled into fists. Then the third boy - the one who hasn’t said anything - notices him.

"Hey," he says. "Isn't that the transfer student? The one with the record?"

Nakaoka looks Akira up and down and frowns. "Oh, yeah. You look like you've got something to say. You gonna assault us too?"

Ryuji's eyes narrow a fraction. "Don't talk to him like-"

"I might." The two words tumble from Akira's mouth. He regrets them the moment they've escaped. _Shit_.

No one says anything for a time. The three instigators look at each other in quick, darting glances. Their faces are just a bit paler. Then Nakaoka barks out a laugh. "Birds of a feather and all that shit. C'mon guys, let's go. Don't train around here anymore, Sakamoto. Like we said, you're not welcome."

The three turn and march off.

Ryuji is quiet for a few moments, and watches their backs retreat. Then he sighs. "Aw man, why'd you say that, dude?"

Akira frowns and dips his head. "Sorry. I just didn't like the way they were talking to you."

"I appreciate you having my back, man. I do. It's just, I don't know. Those guys used to be my friends. I know it sounds weird, given how much shit they were just talkin', but I do kinda get where they're coming from."

"Seriously?" Akira asks. "They can't just ban you from training around the school."

Ryuji nods. "You're right. They can't. But I'm still going to respect what they want. It's not like they're wrong. If I had kept my cool against Kamoshida, none of us would be in this mess."

"You said Kamoshida wanted to take down the track team no matter what," Akira says. "So if it wasn't you, it would've been something else."

"But it _was_ me, Akira," Ryuji replies. "I hear what you're saying, but I still threw the punch."

He doesn't agree, but what can he say? "I'm sorry. I should've kept my mouth shut."

Ryuji rolls his neck and shrugs. "Well, it's not like it would've mattered. Those guys were going to think the worst of us anyway."

"Still. I didn't make things any better."

Ryuji cracks a small smile. "It got them to shut up for a few seconds. So there's that." He looks askance at Akira. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What about your friends? From back in your hometown. You ever keep in touch with them?"

Akira answers without thinking. "I don't have any friends back in my hometown."

Ryuji shakes his head. "Nah. You're a good guy. I'm sure you had some pals back there."

Now it is Akira's turn to shrug. "I thought I did. Then the trial happened. Then no one wanted anything to do with me."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "Didn't you tell them what happened?"

"I never got the chance. They told me it was because their parents didn't want them talking to me anymore, but I know that's bullshit."

Ryuji nods. "Yeah, with phones and the internet and stuff..."

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry, man."

Akira smiles and shakes his head. "Me too."

They nod at each other, and that is that.

Ryuji stretches his arms over his head. "Man, we were supposed to work off this stress from Kamoshida. Instead everything got all heavy."

"Yeah. We should work on that."

#

Morgana squirms in his bag and pokes his head out of the little gap. "Wow. Look at all this stuff."

They cut their way through Shibuya's Underground Mall, a colorful, mobbed, collection of storefronts. Despite the evening hour, people pack the halls, from the elderly peering curiously in every direction, to students doing much of the same.

Their destination, Rafflesia, is a flower shop. During their infiltration of Kamoshida's palace, Morgana had called thieving, an ironically expensive hobby. To continue their operations, an income was required, one that didn't revolve around collecting yen from defeated shadows. Though Akira had initially planned on seeking employment here the previous week, Makoto's punch to the face had delayed it. One phone call later, and he had managed to reschedule an interview to tonight.

Granted, he wondered if the job was truly necessary, given that Kamoshida was most likely defeated, but even if that were the case, Sojiro wasn't going to start paying him any time soon, and living in Tokyo - even as a student - was starting to get pricey.

When they arrive, Hanasaki, the shop owner regards him with a discerning eye. "I see," she says, after he explains his presence. She peers at his bag, which he has set at his feet. "And that cat in your bag. Are you interviewing as a team?"

Akira pales a bit, leans down and zips the bag shut, with Morgana inside. "He's really well-behaved. I, um, kind of have to keep him with me. He won't mess with anything, I promise."

She nods. "I suppose I'll hold you to that promise. People do tend to find cats cute, so perhaps if it becomes known that we have our own, foot traffic might increase." She shrugs. "And you said you attend Shujin, yes?"

Akira nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"As a matter of fact, I actually just hired someone else from Shujin. What a coincidence."

She turns back into the storefront, ornamented as it is with a spectacular array of tulips, roses, and flowers Akira has no name for. The volume intimidates him. He begins to wonder if this job will be as easy as he thought.

"Oku-chan, could you come out here please?"

Near the back of the storefront is a slightly ajar door, and at the sound of Hanasaki's call, it opens just a bit further, and a girl steps out. "Coming!" Comes a high, sweet voice.

The girl is dressed in denim overalls over a dirt dusted white shirt. Cheap sneakers caked in what looks like dried mud sit on her feet. On her head, pulled tight over her brown, curly hair, she wears a New York Yankee's baseball cap. She pats down her legs and straighten, then stares at the two.

When she sees Akira, she stiffens, pales, and bites her lower lip. "Um, hello," she mutters.

Akira frowns. The girl looks familiar, but he can't place her. _She probably recognizes me as the transfer student. Great. Just great_.

"Look here, Oku-chan," Hanasaki says with a smile. "We've got a new potential employee. _And_ he goes to Shujin. Do you know him?"

"In... in a way," the girl mumbles.

Akira fights away his sigh.

"Well then, it might make it easier for you two to work together. Would he be a good hire, Oku-chan?"

 _Here it comes_ , Akira thinks. _The, 'No, he wouldn't because he's a dangerous criminal,' part._

The girls nods. "I have no reason to think otherwise."

"Oh, good," Hanasaki says.

"Huh?" Akira asks.

The manager accepts Akira's proposal, cat and all, and has the girl show him into the back storage room. It is there that - with the two of them secluded - she turns to him and frowns. "I suppose you'll be telling everyone at school that I'm here." Akira opens his mouth to reply, but the girl turns her gaze to the floor and asks, "Did Mako-chan at least like her gift?"

He imagines her in another outfit. A pink cardigan over a Shujin uniform. "Hey," he says. "I do know you! You're that girl that was in Niijima-senpai's class."

She looks back up at him. "You didn't recognize me?"

He shrugs. "You seemed familiar, but you're dressed totally different." He rubs the back of his neck. "But, um, why would I tell people you work here?"

She frowns. "Please don't play dumb. I know that someone like me working in a place like this would be prime fodder for the rumor mills."

"Sorry, but I don't really know who you are."

She blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. I don't know who you are. Is there some reason why people at school would freak out about you working here?"

Her jaw works soundlessly for a few moments. Then she says, "I'm Haru Okumura."

"I'm Akira Kurusu."

"Yes, I know. But I'm Haru _Okumura_." Akira just meets her eyes. She tilts her head. "Oh. You don't know."

"Sorry."

A smile lights up her face. Akira nearly takes a step back at how vast the difference in her is. "Oh my. I'm so sorry. Please forgive my silliness." She bows. "My name is Haru Okumura. It's very nice to meet you, Kurusu-kun.”

The girl's pleasantness is infectious, and Akira can't help but smile back. He bows as well. "It's nice to meet you too, officially that is, Okumura-senpai."

She straightens and waves her hands, dismissively. "Please, there's no need to be so formal. Call me Haru."

It feels like a breach, but the girl seems insistent, so he cannot help but feel obligated to do so. "Then, you've got to call me, Akira."

"Agreed. Let's both work hard." She turns back to the flowers and points to a stool near the wall. "You can set your bag down there. There's little work done in that area, so it won't get dirty." She turns back and looks at him. "Akira-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is your bag, um, _shifting_?"

"Oh," Akira says, and unzips the bag.

Morgana pokes his head out and takes a big gulp. "Don't zip me up in there! I can't breathe!"

"Oh," Haru says, blinking. "You have a cat in your bag. That's, um, new."

Akira sets his bag in the spot and opens it a bit wider so Morgana can step out. "Yeah, this is Morgana. Mona for short."

Morgana regards Haru as she walks up to him and crouches down. "Who's this?" The cat asks.

"Aww, he's so cute," Haru says, and holds out a finger towards his nose. "Mona-chan."

Morgana makes a face. "Seriously, who is this?"

"This is Haru," Akira says, in a sing-song voice. "She's our new co-worker. Be nice, Mona-chan."

The cat's eyes narrow. "Your face will meet my claws tonight, Akira. Mark my words."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for their well-wishes! It means a lot! And now, we've got Haru in the mix! Before anyone says anything, yes, I know the New York Yankees are an American baseball team, and that Persona 5 is set in Tokyo. But have you guys ever watched Terrace House? EVERYONE on that show has an American baseball cap. Not to mention a college sweatshirt to an American University. What was I talking about, again? Sorry, I think my brain is getting a bit fried.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! As of today, I think I am going to decrease the posts for next week down to two. Monday's of next week's is actually edited and ready to go, so I'll probably just stick to the regular schedule, but skip a post on Wednesday. Hard to believe that we're only just wrapping up April. Hoo boy. See you Friday!


	21. The Abdication

4/29

Ryuji yawns and stretches his arms over his head. "And here I was, plannin' on sleeping through the morning class."

Akira peers past him and looks at Ann. "Any idea what this is about?"

She glances back and says in a hushed voice, "Probably Shiho. I mean, nothing else has happened that would make them call an assembly like this."

The announcement had come during homeroom. All students of Shujin were to report to the gymnasium for an important announcement.

Principal Kobayakowa stands in a quiet huddle with a few other faculty members upon the stage. None of their words carry to the students.

Whispers bounce back and forth. Akira stretches his head and sees Kawakami near the stairs to the stage. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and her head droops forward. She'd looked the same during homeroom too. He scans the tops of the student heads, trying to find Makoto or Haru, but they're lost in the sea of faceless kids.

"You alright, man?" Ryuji asks.

"Hm?"

"You got a bunch of scratches on your face."

"Oh," Akira says and rubs the tiny cuts. "Yeah. Morgana doesn't like his new nickname. He let me know it with his claws."

Ryuji smirks. "What's the name?"

"Mona-chan."

Both Ryuji and Ann laugh. "That's perfect," Ann says. "How'd you come up with that?"

Akira smiles. "I didn't, actually. It was-"

"Attention." The word booms through the room with microphone feedback, and the student body collectively cringes. Principal Kobayakowa stands at the stage's podium, vomit-colored suit still bulging with his barely contained mass. "Quiet, please." He clears his throat into the mike as the whispers die down. "In light of the recent tragedy-"

_CLANG_.

Everyone's heads whip to the gymnasium's door.

Kamoshida stands in the entryway, head dipped forward, arms at his sides, slack. His posture is stooped. His skin is pale. His hair is a scraggly mess absent its typical style.

"Dude," Ryuji whispers. "Dude, dude, dude!"

Akira knows what his friend is trying to say. _This is it._

"Kamoshida-sensei," Principal Kobayakowa states into the microphone. "I didn't… that is to say, we didn't expect you back today."

His name animates him, but he winces as it is spoken. He takes one haggard step forward, then another. His feet barely leave the ground, as if they are loathe to do so. He shambles his way towards the stage, and those students in his path push and shove themselves out of his way. It has no effect on him. The man seems unable to focus upon anything but his slow, awful march.

He climbs the steps to the stage with what looks like extreme difficulty. Ryuji puts a hand on Akira's shoulder. He looks at his friend, and sees his brow knitted, eyes fixed on the stage. When he looks at Ann, he sees her pale, with one hand clutching Ryuji's in a desperate grip.

Kamoshida turns to the crowd, drops to his knees, and begins to sob. "I'm sorry," he moans. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

No one says anything. Every student is silent.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeats the words, again and again like a mantra, a rite.

It is the Principal, still at the podium, who breaks the cycle. "Kamoshida-sensei, what're you talking about?"

He stops his chant, and looks out at the students with red-rimmed eyes. "I raped Shiho Suzui."

A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Akira feels Ryuji's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"I am the reason she tried to kill herself. I have solicited sexual favors from other female students, and held designs upon numerous others." His head tilts forward, but Akira does not get the impression that he looks at anything. "Recently, I made numerous attempts to coerce Ann Takamaki into a sexual relationship. I spread false rumors about our being together in order to facilitate this." The words fall from him. "I have had students spread rumors about their fellows, under threat of physical violence. I have physically and mentally abused students, both male and female. I actively sought to disband sports teams and clubs that drew attention and funds from the volleyball team. I have... I've..." The sobs return. "I am so sorry. For all I've done."

Akira's heart hammers in his chest. _It worked. It actually worked._

"To atone for my crimes, I hereby resign from Shujin Academy, and I fully intend to kill myself."

Another gasp from the students. The whispers begin anew.

Ann takes her hand from Ryuji's and steps forward. She shoves her way past the students ahead of her, approaching the stage. Ryuji and Akira glance at one another, and follow in her wake.

Kamoshida is still speaking. "Now then, I'll-"

Ann reaches the front of the crowd and screams, "No!"

Silence. All eyes turn to her, even Kamoshida's. A spark of life returns to his as he regards her.

Ann's hands are clenched into fists. When Akira and Ryuji catch up to her, they see her teeth are gritted, and her eyes are hard and storming. "You don't get to run from this, you bastard! Shiho's in the hospital, in a coma because of you, and you just want to kill yourself and get it over with? That's not good enough!" She points one long, shaking finger at her former tormentor. "You should live with what you've done. You should have to remember it every day!"

"Ann," Ryuji whispers, and reaches out a hand for her shoulder. She turns to look at him, and Ryuji falters under her gaze. Then he nods, and turns towards Kamoshida. "Yeah," he shouts. "Dying’s easy. You don't deserve easy."

Kamoshida looks at the both of them and bows his head. "You're right," he mumbles. "You're absolutely right." He looks up at Principal Kobayakowa. "Sir, would you please contact the authorities? I'll turn myself in."

#

The three stand in the empty gymnasium, the call to return to class forgotten.

"I can't believe it’s over," Ann says.

Ryuji and Akira nod. The police had arrived, and escorted a sniveling Kamoshida out of the building. The flustered Principal had ordered everyone back to their classrooms, but few had listened. Unable to move, the three teens had retreated to the back of the gym. A procession of students had approached Ann then, offering their apologies for believing Kamoshida's lies. Ann had smiled, nodded, thanked them and given them acquittal, but Akira could tell her heart wasn't in it. Her outburst, though short lived, had exhausted her.

"You know," Ryuji says. "I almost feel kind of bad for him."

Ann glares at him. "Seriously?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, you saw him up there. He seemed real sorry for what he did. He must've been a normal guy once, before his shit got all messed up."

"And when we changed his heart," Akira says.  "All that came back to him."

"Must've been one hell of a shock."

"Bastard deserved it," Ann mumbles.

"I'm not sayin' he didn't," Ryuji grumbles. "It's just, I don't know."

They stand in silence but it is short-lived. Ann's phone vibrates, and she pulls it from her pocket. Her eyes widen. "It's Shiho's mom." Without another word, she puts the phone up to her ear and says, "Hello?" She takes a few steps away from the two boys, who regard each other with worried glances.

"Uh-huh," Ann says. "I see." Her voice drops a few octaves, becomes dim. "Okay... Yeah, of course. I'll talk to you soon."

She hangs up and lets her hand drop to her side, phone held loose in quivering fingers.

"Ann?" Akira asks. The two boys each take a half-step towards her. "What's wrong?"

"...woke up," she whispers.

"What'd you say?" Ryuji asks.

Ann whirls on them, and tears streak down her face. "Shiho woke up!" She crosses the distance between the two of them, and throws one arm around each of their necks. Her head drops into the spot between their shoulders and her sobs burst from her lips in a loud, relieved wail.

Akira stands there, his shock matched by Ryuji's wide-eyed face. Their eyes meet across Ann's back as she shudders into both of them. Then, they both smile, and each rests a hand on Ann's back.

The three stand like that for a long while.

#

Makoto sits in the student council room. She holds the calling card in her hands. The poorly drawn top-hatted figure smirks out at her. She turns it over and reads the words once more.

_We're going to steal your sick desires and make you confess your sins with your own mouth._

And so he had.

_The Phantom Thieves of Hearts. This can't be real_. How had this happened? _Blackmail? Some kind of threat? Psychological manipulation?_

Ultimately, it didn't matter. Kamoshida had been singled out by the Phantom Thieves, and they'd beaten him.

_Then everything Kurusu and Sakamoto said about him was true. They were right all along._ She blinks. Akira Kurusu and Ryuji Sakamoto. Were they the ones behind this? She'd seen them, from the back of the gym, push ahead with Takamaki. Was she involved as well?

Kamoshida had broken Sakamoto's leg.

Kamoshida had pursued a sexual relationship with Takamaki, _and_ was directly responsible for Suzui's suicide attempt.

Kamoshida had brutally beaten Kurusu just the other day.

She shudders at the memory of his bruised and broken face.

They hadn't spoken since. She hadn't even thanked him for the birthday present. Had this been what he was doing?

She shakes her head. There are too many questions, too many threads. Did it even matter? Kamoshida was on his way to prison. He would atone. Whatever the Phantom Thieves did - regardless of who they were - it was over.

Wasn't it?

#

Akira opens his eyes.

_Drip. Drip. Drip_.

A faint, far-off wail. The small clattering sound of shifting chains.

Akira shuts his eyes.

"That will do you no good here, Trickster." Igor's words drift into his cell and worm their way into his ear. "Nothing escapes my notice, least of all that which pertains to you."

Akira sighs and sits up. He turns his head and looks through the bars at the long-nosed thing.

"Why not come closer?" It asks.

"I think I'm good here."

"ADHERETOTHEMASTERSSUGGESTION"

He cringes under Caroline's onslaught, and shuts his eyes.

"Fear not, inmate," he hears Justine whisper. "Our forms are still hidden from your uncomprehending sight. But my sister speaks wisely. Approach."

Akira stands, creaks his eyes open, and approaches the bars.

"It would seem your mission was a success," Igor says through his teeth. Akira can _feel_ the presence of the two sisters, just beyond his sight. It makes him nauseous. "I am pleased at your progress. Your rehabilitation is well under way."

"Why are you doing this?" Akira asks.

Igor tilts its head. "Your kind. Always obsessed with the why and how." He spreads his arms in what approximates a shrug, but it doesn't look _right_. The bend is wrong. "Do you disdain the gift given to you so much? Is it not enough to be handed something, and told to do what you will with it?"

"Why me?" Akira asks. "Why now? Why can I carry multiple Personas?"

"You are of the Wild Card, inmate," Justine's voice whispers. "It is rare indeed."

Igor chuckles. "You ask why you can carry multiple Personas. I direct the question back to you. Why _can_ you carry multiple Personas?" His chuckle grows in timbre, and Akira backs away from the cell door.

The horrid ringing blasts through his ears. "Wait, I'm not done!"

"Our time is up, Trickster," Igor says. "But we shall see you soon. I've another gift to bestow upon you. Look forward to it."

#

Kamoshida sits in the room. Its walls are a dull gray and the air tastes stale in his nostrils and upon his tongue. He is _so_ tired.

The two detectives regard each other, from across the table. "I think that's enough for tonight," the one says. They had given their names, but Kamoshida doesn't remember them.

He looks up. "I'm not done."

The other shakes his head. "You are for tonight."

The door opens and a uniformed officer steps in. He walks up to the nearest detective and whispers something in his ear. "Seriously?" The man asks in response. The officer shrugs. The detective turns to his partner and whispers something to him.

"That right?" The second asks.

Kamoshida follows this exchange, uncomprehending.

Both detectives stand and follow the officer out the door, without another word to the disgraced Olympian.

He sits in the quiet, alone with his terrible thoughts.

Then the door opens.

A thin figure steps inside. He is young. Sandy brown hair falls to his shoulders, but it is immaculate in its style. He wears a school's tan uniform, but Kamoshida does not recognize the institution. Black gloves cover his hands.

He carries with him, a steel briefcase, and after shutting the door behind him, sets it on the table. The noise is sharp, single and painful. Kamoshida shrinks from it.

When the boy speaks, his words are smooth, silken. "A man spends his days, fulfilling whatever sick desire pops into his head. Beyond reproach or impeachment, he reigns over his school as if he were the king of his own castle. Then, without warning, he confesses to it all. Turns himself in to the authorities. Demands that he be arrested and made to pay for his crimes." The boy unsnaps the briefcase and opens it, withdrawing a pencil, a pad of paper, and a tape recorder.

"One might say you had a complete and sudden change of heart."

"Who are you?" Kamoshida asks, his voice a quiet whimper.

"Unimportant." The boy pulls out one the chairs previously occupied by the detectives, and sits. "My name doesn't matter to you, though it's not as if it's a secret. Soon enough you'll be prosecuted and jailed. Your name will tarnish headlines and you'll be the talk of Tokyo for a week, perhaps two. Then you'll vanish. Forgotten. Just like everyone else." He holds up a solitary, black gloved finger. "But, before all that happens, Suguru Kamoshida, I need you relate every detail of the past, let's say… three, weeks to me. I want to know who you spoke to, and what you said to them. I want to know who you touched, raped, and hurt. And then I want you to tell me again. And then again, and then again, until you are absolutely sure that you have left _nothing_ out."

"Why?"

"Questions don't become you. Do yourself one last favor and do what I tell you."

Their eyes meet until Kamoshida can no longer hold the gaze. "Okay," he mumbles. "I'll tell you everything."

Goro Akechi smirks. It is an awful thing to behold.

He presses the appropriate button on the tape recorder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the King is dead! But it sure as hell ain't the end.
> 
> What a ride. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story and left comments, subscribed, left a Kudo, and all the other wonderful things you people do.
> 
> As for the decrease in chapters for next week, I think I'm going to do it. I'll probably post Monday and then Friday. I hope you all have a great weekend!


	22. 345

4/30

Ann hunches over her desk all morning. Her early greeting to Akira and Morgana was soft-spoken and distracted. So when the bell rings, and she spins around and plants her palms on Akira's desk, he recoils from the sudden outburst.

"I need a favor and you have to say yes!" She blurts.

"Yes," Akira replies.

Ann blinks, pulls her hands away and drops them into her lap, and dips her head forward. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so crazy all of a sudden."

"That's alright," Akira says. With one hand, he pokes Morgana's nose. The cat sniffles, and rolls away. "Do you need Mona? Looks like he's napping."

"No, it's fine. I kind of just wanted to ask you."

"Alright, what's up?"

Ann's hands ball into fists, and her gaze drifts to the notebooks on Akira's desk. "You know how Shiho woke up yesterday?" Akira smiles and nods. "Well, I wanted to go see her right away, but her family didn't want to overexcite her right after she came out of the coma."

"Makes sense."

"Right. So, they told me I could come today. But..." She trails off. Bites her lip.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

It takes Ann a full minute before she can reply. "Shiho."

"You're scared of your best friend?"

Ann rolls her eyes. "Not like _that_. But, what if she's mad at me? What if she hates me?" Her voice drops to a whisper. "After all, if I had just done what Kamoshida had wanted, nothing would have happened to her."

"Ann, come on."

"What?" She asks, and glares at him. "I'm not saying it's something I should've done, but it's the truth. Isn't it?" Akira frowns, and says nothing. "We both know it. Shiho probably knows it too. So, if I go, and it turns out she hates me... I just, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Do you not want to go?" Akira asks.

She shakes her head. "I'm going. I said I would. And no matter what she thinks about me, she's still _my_ best friend. I have to be there for her, even if it's someone for her to hate." She looks Akira in the eye, and says, "I want you to come with me."

He nods. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Of course. Should we bring Ryuji too?"

"Umm..." Ann says, and looks away again. "I kind of want to ask him, but I also kind of don't want to ask him. Does that make sense?"

"Not really."

She frowns. "Well, you know how he is. He's like, the living opposite of the word 'calm.' I just don't want Shiho to get even more riled up. Do you get it?"

Akira thinks of Ryuji's abundant personality. "A hospital isn't his kind of place."

She nods. "Exactly." Then she blushes. "I mean, I'd totally like it if he came. It's just, you know, Shiho. Plus, if she totally hates me now, I don't think I'll be able to stand it, and I, uh, don't want him seeing me like that." Her eyes widen and she stares at Akira. "Not that it's all that important anyway, and look why are we sitting here? Can we just go?"

"Sure," Akira says, shaking Morgana awake. The cat protests and lashes out at Akira with his claws, but the teen dodges them. "Let's go."

#

Makoto finds Kurusu as he exits Shujin by the front gate. He stands shoulder to shoulder with Takamaki, and the sight elicits _something_ inside her. It feels a bit like bile in her throat, but she does not feel sick or nauseous. "Kurusu," she calls, and the two stop and turn back to her.

Makoto halts a few steps above them, suddenly wordless. Takamaki looks from Makoto, back to Kurusu, and back to Makoto. "I'll, uh, keep going." She turns around, but glances at Kurusu. "You'll catch up, right?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," he replies, and Makoto suddenly feels like she's inhaled smoke. He looks up at her. "What's up?"

_What's up? What's up?_ Her hands clench around her bag. She fights to keep her face neutral. _What's up?_ She thinks. _What's up with you?_ "Are you... heading somewhere with Takamaki?"

"Hmm?" He asks, then nods. "Oh, yeah. We're going to see Shiho in the hospital."

Makoto's eyes widen. "Suzui's awake?"

Kurusu frowns. "Oh, crap." He looks around, but no one else is near them. "Listen, could you keep that to yourself for right now? I'm not sure I was supposed to spill that."

Makoto nods. "Of course. Of course." _Wait, so they're just going to the hospital? Good. People don't go on dates to hospitals. Wait... do people go on dates to hospitals? What would they do there?_

She shakes her head clear. Steels herself. She is a Niijima. Courage. _No. Not courage. Fearlessness._ "We haven't talked," she says.

Kurusu meets her eyes and she refuses to look away. They stare at one another for a few moments, and then he averts his gaze and says, "No, I guess we haven't. Not since Kamoshida beat the hell out of me."

"Not since you got me out of his office," she says. "I assume that _was_ you who pulled the fire alarm?"

“My cat, actually,” he mumbles. Makoto is about to reply to _that,_ when he asks, "Why did you go with him?"

Makoto swallows. She had been so sure at the time, but now? "I wanted to investigate him. To get evidence that he was really committing those crimes." She blushes and says in a lower voice, "And I wanted to stop your expulsion."

Kurusu clears his throat and looks away, and Makoto can see a hint of crimson on his cheeks as well.

"I guess it didn't matter in the long run," she says. "He confessed." He stiffens at this, then relaxes, more than he had been. As if he’s trying to appear relaxed. "But, thank you, Kurusu-kun. For what you did." She smiles. "And for the birthday present."

He grins and looks back at her, his eyes alight. "I had a feeling you'd like that."

"Where did you find it?"

"At a second hand store near where I live."

"I couldn't believe it when I saw it."

"That's what I was going for."

"Thank you," she says. "Really. Thank you."

He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. "It was nothing. I'm sure you got a lot of cooler stuff than that."

Her eyes narrow. "There's nothing cooler than Buchi-kun,” she says, an edge to her voice.

Kurusu’s smile morphs into that teasing, knowing, crazy _smirk_ that he always wears for her, and Makoto feels her heart flutter. "Whatever you say."

She realigns herself. _Ask him_. "There's one last thing I wanted to speak to you about, Kurusu-kun."

"What's that?"

She halts just a moment before she can say, "Our study sessions."

"Oh," he replies. "Right."

"We never really followed up on those. What with everything that happened immediately afterwards, I never got a chance to reach out to you. But, you did meet with me every day, after school, for a week. So, I'll be blunt. I think you can further benefit from them, and I'd like to continue them." She smiles a bit, and her pulse quickens. "It doesn't have to be every day, of course." She keeps her breath steady.

"I'd like that," he says, with no hesitation, and Makoto starts to feel something but then he walks back up the steps, pulls out his phone and says, “Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way, if I ditch you, you can threaten my life right away, instead of having to wait until the next day,” and Makoto feels something else entirely.

She blushes and says, “That would be agreeable,” and then realizes that she just said, “That would be agreeable,” and inwardly groans at herself for saying something so dumb. But her voice is steady when she gives him her number, and she is very proud of that. _Small victories,_ she thinks.

 Then she goes for a larger one. “There’s one more thing. You don’t have to keep calling me Niijima-senpai.” She resists the urge to swallow, and sort of succeeds. “Actually, I’d prefer it if you called me Makoto.”

His flirty smirk disappears, and something else writes its way across his face. Something warm. “Then you’re going to have to call me, Akira.”

“Very well, Akira.” The name, not said in anger or frustration, feels good on her tongue.

He nods, slowly, as if he’s confirmed something. “I should get going. But we’ll talk soon, yeah? Set up our next session?”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Good.” He half-turns from her, then looks back. The smirk has returned. “See you around, Makoto.” Then he turns, and walks off.

It takes a significant amount of effort for her to not sigh. When she realizes what she’s resisting, she shakes her head and whispers, “Get ahold of yourself, Niijima.”

#

Room 345. The door is thick, painted beige, with a smudgy, rust red knob. A plastic chute hangs off it, and inside rests a clipboard covered in papers in turn covered in phrases and numbers Ann cannot understand. A small whiteboard sits dead center, with the name, 'Shiho Suzui' written in thick, black marker.

Ann's lips are sucked in, forming a thin, pale slice across her face. Akira stands alongside her, singular and silent, the sterile beams of light glancing off his glasses and turning them to opaque reflections of odd shapes and refractions. His bag is still. Morgana is outside.

"You okay?" He asks, and his voice seems to echo as if from very far away.

"Not really," she replies, and hates the way her voice sounds. It is trembling, emaciated, and she had promised herself she wouldn't be this way. Not in front of Shiho.

_She's going to hate me. She's going to hate me. She's going to hate me._ And she will be justified in it.

"Do you want to come back later?" His voice echoes up from some bottomless pit.

"Thank you for coming with me," she says, and she realizes that her hand is halfway to the knob. "I might be a while."

"I'll be here." The words are a warm compress on her chest. She opens the door and steps inside.

The lights are off and the blinds are drawn. A faint orange early twilight creeps in around the latter's edges, giving the small, box-like room an otherworldly quality.

She sees the bed. It is nondescript, like any hospital bed in any hospital in any country, and this strikes Ann as severely unfair. _Don't they know what she's been through? She should get a better bed!_

Shiho Suzui lays in it, propped up by a set of pillows, blankets folded up across her waist, hands folded in her lap. Her black hair is absent her typical ponytail, it lays loose down her back. Her head is turned from her, staring at the blinds as if she can see the Tokyo skyline that hides behind them.

Ann's mouth works, but her words become dust before they can escape as sounds.

Her friend's head turns, and Ann sees what she is now. Her skin is so papery, dehydrated and worn. Her eyes are dim and glazed. Strands of her hair clutch, sweat-damp, to her forehead. Her lips are cracked, scabbed, and purplish.

Ann finds her tongue. "Shiho?"

For a brief moment, the worst moment in Ann Takamaki's life, there is no recognition. Confusion scribbles its way across Shiho's face in brought together brows, narrowed eyes, and pursed lips.

And then.

Lights flick on behind her eyes, and they widen. Her cheeks flush. Her withered mouth works and sputters out pale exhales before she finally manages one love-filled, "Ann!"

And then.

And then Ann is crossing the room and a film of tears coats her eyes and broken gasps escape her lips and she leans over Shiho's bed and buries her face into her best friend's neck and clutches her as tight as she can, and she is shouting, "You jerk! You jerk! You jerk! How could you do that?" And she says so many other things about how scared she was and how lonely she would have been and how every day without her had felt like the worst year in the history of years.

And then Shiho's hand rest on Ann's back, and through her own choked sobs, she manages to say, "Wow. Your bedside manner sucks."

And then Ann is laughing and she has never felt so good.

Time passes the way it does, and eventually finds Ann sitting in the room's sole chair, bag at her feet, her body leaning towards the bed. "I'm so sorry," she says.

Shiho's head shakes. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"No," Ann says, and stomps her foot on the ground. "You didn't do anything! Kamoshida-" but she stops when her friend winces. "S-sorry."

Shiho looks at her lap, a distant look on her face. "It's alright. I know he's not here. My mom and dad told me about what he did. Is it true he confessed in front of the whole school?"

Ann nods. "Pretty much."

They are silent for a time, and when next Shiho speaks, the words are barely above whispers. "I didn't really want to die. I just wanted it all to stop."

Ann rubs her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. It comes away wet. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

Shiho looks at her, her fragile smile worn like something she is not used to. "I know you led him on for me, Ann." Ann blinks. "I'm sorry I didn't..." but her lip begins to tremble and her head dips forward. “It _hurt_."

Ann reaches out and takes Shiho's hand, who squeezes it in return, and again they lapse into quiet. Eventually, Ann ventures to speak. "I think," she says. "That if we had been a bit more honest with each other, we could've figured a way out." Shiho nods. "So, that's it. No more secrets. From now on, we tell each other everything." She puts as much steel behind her voice as she can. "I never want to get that close to losing you again." She wets her lips, and looks back at the still closed door. "That's why I have to tell you something. It's going to sound crazy, but I promise it's the truth."

"O-okay," Shiho replies. Ann tells her of the past few weeks, and as she does, Shiho's eyes widen.

#

Akira flips mindlessly through his phone in the hospital's hall, seated in a spare chair seemingly thrown up against the wall. Whatever nurses and doctors pass him pay him no mind, and that suits Akira just fine.

Ann exits Room 345, and looks happily exhausted. She smiles when their eyes meet, and Akira stands. "So, she doesn't hate you."

Ann shakes her head. "Nope."

Akira returns his phone to pocket. "That's good."

"Listen," Ann says, and walks up to him. She folds herself up against his arm, cups her mouth and whispers into his ear, "I told her, about the Metaverse."

Akira blinks, and wonders how he should feel about this. He is surprised when he realizes he has very little reaction. Ann must read his trepidation over this as frustration, because she bites her lip and hurriedly blurts out, "I'm sorry, I just _had_ to tell her. The whole reason I got involved was because of her anyway, and-"

"No, it's fine," Akira says. When Ann blinks, he quickly adds, "Really, it is. Did she believe you?"

Ann steps away from him and a grin cracks her face. "I think so. I wouldn't, if someone told me, but she knows I wouldn't make something like that up." She giggles. "I'm nowhere near that creative."

Akira smiles and they head down the hall together, towards the elevator. "Thanks for coming with me, Akira," she says.

"Anytime."

"Yeah, well, I may take you up on that." Ann pressed the elevator's button and turns back to stare down the hall. "I need to be strong now, for Shiho's sake. She's been through so much and she'll need me. So, do you think you could help me, help her?"

Akira grins as the doors slide open and says, "Of course."

Ann breathes a sigh of relief and steps inside. She leans back against the wall of the elevator and allows Akira to push the ground floor button. "But you know," she says, as the doors shut. "Seeing Shiho and being able to talk to her? I finally feel like this whole thing is over." She slaps her cheeks with both hands, a grin on her face. "So, no more sad stuff! Tomorrow is our victory party!" She lifts her hand into the air for a high-five, and Akira smiles as he answers it with his own.

"We're going to pawn the medal tomorrow," he says. "Right?"

"Mmmhmm," she replies, nodding. "We'll go to that Airsoft store Ryuji took me too. He can't come because he's crazy, but make sure you bring the rest of the loot too. We can cash it all in." She throws back her head and laughs. "Listen to us, talking about selling off all the loot. We sound like real thieves!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After approximately 70K words and 22 chapters, we've finally reached the end of April.
> 
> Holy smokes.
> 
> Well now, there's nothing for it but to move onto May! As I said last week, due my finals, I won't be posting again this week until Friday. If that changes... well, you'll probably notice because I'll have posted something earlier than Friday, haha. Thank you very much for all your comments! For all your Kudos! For all your Favs and Follows! 
> 
> You people are rivers in the dry land that is my soul.


	23. Partytime!

5/1

Sweat rolls down his forehead. The eyes of the man seated across from him burrow into his own, shove their way past his defenses and tunnel into the very depths of his mind. They writhe inside, rip him to pieces, reduce him until he is no more than a marionette. He gathers what little courage remains him and spits out, "Sixty-five."

The man does not blink. "Thirty."

Akira grits his teeth, pushes ahead. "Sixty."

"Thirty."

Akira plants his hands on the countertop and says, "Fifty and-"

The man stands. He towers over Akira glares down with gunmetal eyes sunken in a grizzled face. His charcoal cap is pulled low, and shadows dance across his features. With one gnarled hand - crisscrossed with bone white scars - he pulls the thin stick of a lollypop out of his mouth. His voice is a deep growl. "Kid, I'm gonna tell you this one last time, and then, if you keep goin', I'm gonna tell you to get the hell out. Thirty." He looks down at the Olympic medal lying on top of the glass. "And you're lucky to get that."

Ann clears her throat and steps up to the counter. She flashes the manager a bright smile, bats her eyes and with one hand, flips one of her blonde ponytails over her shoulder. In a high, lulling voice, she asks, "Are you, like, _sure_ we can't convince you to give us more for it?"

The manager shifts his eyes over to Ann, sighs and sticks the lollipop back in his mouth. "Missy, I add sweet girls like you to my coffee in the morning when I'm getting ready for a night with the real women. You can't handle me and I ain't got the patience to acquaint you."

Ann's eyes widen and her mouth drops open even as the red in her cheeks rises. "What? You jerk!"

"Jerk?" The man asks. "You're the one half-assing your own seduction. Put some effort into it next time." He begins to shift his focus to Akira, then snaps his gaze back to Ann. "By the way, where's the genius?"

"The who?"

"The blonde Mensa candidate who kept askin' stupid questions the last time you were here. You two break up?"

"No," Ann says.

"Sucks for him."

"No!" She shouts, as Akira puts a hand on her arm. "I mean, we're not even dating!"

Akira lifts the medal up off the glass and holds it beneath the light. "You really won't give us more than thirty thousand yen for it?"

The man snatches it out of Akira's hand. "This is obviously a fake. You two ain't Olympians, otherwise you'd know it's illegal to exchange these for cash."

Akira and Ann glance at each other. They had not known that.

"Plus, neither of you strike me as the athletic types. So it's a fake, albeit a good one, and you're both too dumb to know it's illegal to sell."

Ann crosses her arms. "Well, if that's true, why are you even going to give us anything for it?”

"Because I have connections who would buy this, knowing it's fake, and turn around and sell it to some dumbass millionaire who wants to feel important and likes shiny things."

Akira blinks. "So, couldn't we just do that?"

The man spits out a half-grunt, half-sigh that passes - in Akira's mind - as his version of a laugh. "You got no connections, kid."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're in an Airsoft shop, trying to sell me a fake Olympic medal."

Akira and Ann stare at each other, and both realize they're in a corner. "Fine," Akira says. "Thirty thousand."

The man nods and slides the medal under the counter. "What else you got?"

Akira opens the duffle bag and begins to pull out the series of pieces and artifacts they'd taken from Kamoshida's palace. The man takes them all in, and says, "I'll give you ten for the whole set."

"Ten?" Ann shouts. "But look how much there is!"

"Uh-huh," the man replies, and lifts up a golden bust of Kamoshida. "And how exactly am I going to resell a stupid looking statue of a guy I don't know?"

In the end, they settle for the sum total of forty thousand. The man hands over the bills, and moves off with the stuff to the back room. "By the way," he says when he returns. "It's not illegal to sell Olympic medals. The sad truth is, some of those fine athletes do it all the time."

"You lied?" Akira asks, angry.

The man shrugs. "Couldn't help it. It's your own fault for not doing your research. Next time to you go to a negotiating table, have a leg to stand on. Life lessons, kids."

"Jerk," Ann says as she stomps her way outside.

Akira glances back at the shopkeeper, and sees his worn smirk beneath his sunken eyes. For whatever reason, Akira smiles right back, shakes his head, and follows Ann out into the daylight.

#

Ryuji leans back on the couch with a heady sigh punctuated by a loud belch.

"Ryuji!" Ann shouts, and glares at him, before matching his with her own. Her cheeks tint and Ryuji shoots Akira a look, before both boys lurch forward in barely contained laughter. "Shut up!" Ann says, but they continue until she cannot help but join in.

He watches Akira grab another piece of sushi and hold it out to Morgana, secure as ever, within the former's bag. The cat lolls out his tongue and stretches his mouth wider than Ryuji thinks is possible, and Akira overturns his hand and drops the fish into the pink gullet of his friend's throat. "Soooo goooood," the cat purrs, once it can.

"Man," Ryuji says, throwing his arms up along the couch's back. "I gotta hand it to you, Ann. You sure picked one hell of a place!"

Ann's smile glitters. "I know, right? I've always wanted to come here, but it was one of those 'some day' fantasies. I didn't think I'd be able to afford it while still in high school!"

Ryuji looks around the room once more. It's freaking insane. A high-ceilinged dining room that stretches far longer than one would think. Plush, crimson rugs tile the floor, ornamented with leather couches bookmarked by end tables topped with dusted, ivory lamps. Numerous buffet stations splatter the room, and dozens of well-dressed, soft spoken men and women circle them.

Some political symposium is happening upstairs, underway in one of the hotel's grand ballrooms. A trio of upcoming politicians engaged in a lively debate about the future of Japan. When Ryuji had heard that part, he'd blanched, but once Ann and Akira had expressed their disinterest as well, he knew he could rest easy. _It's probably just more of the same crap anyway. Nothing those guys do changes anything_.

"I can't believe they let us in," Akira says, sweeping the room with his eyes as well.

Ryuji chuckles and points to his own hair. "I thought they'd take one look at this and tell me to beat it."

"Not to mention your choice of outfit," Ann mutters.

Ryuji glances down at his purple sweatshirt. _What's wrong with this?_ He wonders. "What's wrong with this?" He asks.

"Just about everything."

"Lady Ann is right," Morgana says, with that condescending tone he seems to only use for Ryuji. "You seem very out of place."

Ryuji was getting a little tired of the cat's crush on Ann. "Can it, cat! You're like, the most out of place one of us!"

" _I_ look sophisticated," Morgana counters. Ryuji swears he sees a malicious little glint in the feline's eyes. "You look like a hoodlum."

Ryuji crosses his arms and runs his eyes over the clothes of his friends. "It's not like you two look like you belong here either."

Ann looks down at her varsity jacket, skirt ensemble and rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I look great." Ryuji has to admit that she does, but he keeps mouth shut. Despite popular opinion, he knows when to do so. Ann glances at Akira. "And he looks good too."

Akira straightens his dark blue, slim-cut blazer, worn over his white V-neck and smiles. "I try."

Ryuji lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "Whatever." Then he remembers. "Oh, I forgot! I had to show you guys something." He reaches into his pocket, rips his phone free, and spend a few moments swiping and poking. Then he turns it around to face them. "Check it out!"

Akira, Ann and Morgana lean forward, with the latter tumbling out of the bag as he does so. Ryuji smiles, but then Ann says, "The PhanSite? What's that?"

"We've got a website," Ryuji exclaims, and gives his friends his best, and biggest smile.

Akira and Ann glance at one another. "Ryuji," Akira says, his voice calm and polite. "Please tell me you didn't create a website and post all of our information on it."

Ryuji feels his eyes widen. "Dude, seriously? You think this was me? No way! I'm not an idiot. I found this last night. It's like a chat site." He sets it in the middle of the table so the others can see. Akira picks it up and brings it closer to Ann. "People are writing about how we really changed Kamoshida's heart. Most of them are probably from Shujin, and a lot of em are even thanking us."

"What's this... poll, thing?" Akira asks, squinting at the screen.

"Oh, that?" Ryuji asks. "The admin posted it. Last I checked, the question was, 'Do you think the Phantom Thieves are real?'"

Akira hands the phone back to Ryuji, a small smile on his face. "It's only at two percent for yes."

Ryuji chuckles and shrugs. "Yeah. Looks like all the people thanking us can't seriously believe we actually exist."

Ann shakes her head. "Does it matter? Whether we're real or not, Kamoshida's heart changed. He confessed to his crimes. We won."

A silence passes over them, and Ryuji is back in the school's gym once more, watching the man who had wrecked his life sniveling and bawling upon the stage. "Yeah," he mumbles. "We won."

"I still can't believe it's over," Akira says. Ann nods. Ryuji does too. "I haven't even been here for a month."

Ryuji belts out a laugh. "That's right. Man, that's crazy! I feel like I've known you forever."

They all laugh and chuckle and giggle along, but the conversation doesn't pick back up.

"I'm gonna get more food," Ann says, standing suddenly.

"I want some more too," Morgana exclaims, and hops back into Akira's bag. "We've already paid for it, so let's stuff ourselves!"

"Okay, okay," Akira says, standing and hefting the bag along his shoulder. "You good, Ryuji?" He asks.

Ryuji pats his stomach. "For now, dude. I kinda ate a lot before we came."

Ann fixes him with a confused look. "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't know if I'd like anything here," he says.

Ann shuts her eyes, shakes her head and sighs. "You're so hopeless."

"What?" Ryuji asks as they all walk away. To him, it had seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

They leave him and he sits alone with his typically uncomplicated mind. Typically, because right now, Ryuji's thoughts race. He didn't tell them about the other part of the PhanSite. The Requests. Dozens of people have scribbled their problems across the site, begging the Phantom Thieves to intervene. He's not stupid, despite what so many think. The vast majority are only doing it so they can be part of the latest fad, but some of them have to be genuine.

_We can do more_ , he thinks, but even as he does so, he wonders if it's not just wishful thinking. They got Kamoshida. They stopped him from hurting anyone else. Shouldn't that be enough?

It should.

But it isn't.

Before he can continue to dwell, a voice cuts through the din in his mind. "Excuse me?"

Ryuji blinks, swings his head around and spies an older woman with streaks of gray in her hair, which is bundled up in _something_ he assumes to be fashionable. Her outfit looks almost business-like, a dark suit over a white blouse. _Ann would know what to call these things_ , he thinks, then asks, "What's up?"

The woman stares at him, and it takes Ryuji a moment to recognize the look. He feels his defenses start to rise. "Are you almost done with this table?" She asks.

He looks at the piles of plates they've left bare. "I dunno," he says, and shrugs. "Why?"

The woman makes a little _tsk_ sound and straightens. "My friends and I are looking for a place to sit."

"Uh, okay," Ryuji replies. "Aren't there any other tables?"

"They are occupied."

"Well, so is this one."

The woman shuts her eyes, sighs. Her lips twitch as she speaks, "Young man, you're being very rude."

"Huh?" Ryuji asks, straightening. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Oh, that language." She shakes her head. "You are aware of the _standards_ of this establishment, are you not?"

He crosses his arms. "No, I'm not."

She throws her hands in the air. "Unbelievable. Young man, I insist you give up this table and vacate this building at once."

"Why the hell should I?" Ryuji asks, louder than before. "My friends and I reserved this table."

"While my associates and I paid-"

"We paid too!" Ryuji feels himself getting worked up. A part of his brain tells him to calm down, but he never knows how to do that. "Why don't you go and ask someone else to move?"

"Keep your voice down," the woman scolds. "To behave like that in a place like this, your parents must be ashamed."

Ryuji feels his lips curl back in a snarl. "Aw, why don't you beat it, you old hag!" Heads turn. _Shit_.

The woman takes a step back in shock. "You...you... you, uncouth delinquent. I'm going to get security, right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuji says, feigning indifference. _I really hope I don't get us kicked out of here_. "Do what you want, and when they get here, I'll tell them you were harassing me."

The woman's face contorts into a small grin. "Like they'd believe a problem child like you." Then she walks away.

Ryuji sulks and it is not long before Akira, Morgana, and Ann return. Each sits with their own face a mirror of his own. "You okay?" Ryuji asks Akira.

Akira nods. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looks from Ryuji to Ann. "What's wrong with you two?"

Ryuji blows his top as he relates the tale to them.

Ann nods. "That happened to me too! I was in line, and this couple behind me just kept talking about me, and saying how the hotel must've 'lowered their standards' to let someone like me in. It was crazy! Like, I was _right there_! I could totally hear them, and they just didn't care!"

"I bumped into this guy," Akira says, nodding back towards the buffet tables. "And he just went off. Started talking about how I didn't _deserve_ to be here and that his suit was expensive and if I _had_ spilled something on it would I be able to pay for it. He talked about how hard he's worked and just... I don't even know." He shakes his head. "It was nuts." He looks up at his friends. "Who even are these people?"

"I think they're called jerks," Morgana says, a hopeful lilt to his voice. No one laughs.

When Ryuji speaks next, he does it without thinking. "Maybe the Phantom Thieves should pay some of these assholes a visit."

A lull passes over the group, as they all glance at each other. Morgana's eyes glint. Ann brightens. Akira pales. Ryuji's heart begins to hammer in his chest. "No, seriously," he says.

"Well," Ann says, leaning back in her seat. "Why not?"

"There are a ton of people out there just like Kamoshida." Ryuji barrels onwards. "And I don't know if you guys have checked, but the app is still on my phone!"

Akira stares ahead, silent.

"Think about it, guys," Ryuji continues. "If we could find other shitty assholes out there and beat the hell out of their shadows, they'd confess too. The Phantom Thieves would be heroes!"

Akira inhales sharply, but remains silent.

Ryuji looks at him. "You okay, dude?"

"Fine," Akira says.

Morgana, a smirk on his face, chuckles. "I was wondering how long it would take until you guys figured it out."

"What'd you mean?" Ann asks.

"Palaces are only created when the distorted desires of an individual warp so badly that they become a danger to themselves or others, in reality. And since there are plenty of other people with desires just as bad as Kamoshida's, it stands to reason that there are plenty of other people with Palaces. And since _we're_ the only ones who can enter a Palace..."

Ryuji fills in the blank. It is the one thing he has wanted to hear. "We're the only ones who can stop them! It’s our freakin’ responsibility!"

"Precisely," Morgana says, nodding in his direction.

Ann looks from Ryuji to Akira, and back to Ryuji. "Are we really considering this?" The question sounds serious, but she wears a big smile on her face. "Like, _really_ really?"

"I'm game!" Ryuji says. He looks at Akira. "What'd you think, man?"

"Huh?" Akira asks, turning to him. "What'd you mean?"

"What'd I mean?" Ryuji asks, laughing. "About sticking with the Phantom Thieves! C'mon man, we can't do this without you."

Akira's eyes look to glaze over for a moment, and his mouth works soundlessly. Then, he smiles. "Let's do it."

"For real?" Ryuji pumps a fist into the air. "Alright!"

"Are you sure?" Ann asks, staring at the bespectacled boy.

He fixes her with his gaze and nods. "Definitely. We're not done yet."

Ryuji picks up his glass. "Then this here is a toast!" He says, then drops his voice. "To the official formation of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts! Let's kick some ass!"

Ann brightens and raises her own glass. "Totally!"

"I'll be counting on you guys," Morgana says, smiling.

"Hear, hear," Akira says.

Ryuji meets his friend's eyes, and for the briefest of moments, sees _something_ pass over them, but then the look is gone and Akira is smiling and as far as Ryuji is concerned, all's right with the world.

#

It is, anyway, until Ann shatters it.

"Ryuji, what's going on with Akira?"

The two are walking down the block towards the subway station. Akira had offered to stay behind in the hotel to settle up the bill, and naturally Morgana had stayed behind with him.

When Ryuji glances over at Ann, her eyes are on the ground and she's biting her lower lip.

He lets out a sigh. "What'd you mean?"

"Didn't you notice how strange he looked?"

"When?"

"When we were talking about the Phantom Thieves, you dolt!"

"Hey," he says, rounding on her. "Why are you always yelling at me like that? I just asked a question!"

Ann takes a step back and shakes her head. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Ryuji groans and rubs the back of his head. "My bad. I didn't mean to snap. But, seriously, what're you talking about?"

Ann looks back towards the hotel, as if afraid Akira would suddenly appear behind them. "Back at the table, when we decided to keep being Phantom Thieves, he was so _quiet_. He looked, I don't know, afraid, even."

Ryuji remembers the look in his friend's eye. "He's always quiet."

"Oh come on," Ann says. "Don't you think it was a little odd?"

Ryuji dropkicks the uneasy feeling in his gut and crosses his arms. "No. I don't. Akira is always quiet. And honestly, the idea of going back to another Palace freaks _me_ out too. But it's like we all agreed, it's necessary." He nods, more sure of himself than he was the barest of seconds ago. "If Akira really was freaking out, he would tell us."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

Ann smiles a bit, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I really hope you're right, Ryuji."

He lets a grin spread over his face. "Ann, c'mon. I'm tellin' you, Akira's fine."

#

Akira is the hotel's bathroom, shut in one of the stalls. He leans against the wall, his breath coming in ragged, choked gasps. It feels as if there is ginger ale in his chest. He is lightheaded.

Morgana is still at the table, snuggled in his bag. Akira had excused himself a few minutes ago.

Ryuji and Ann have left.

He is all alone.

He is all alone.

He is alone in this fucking box.

_I can't get out. I can't get away_. Part of him had known they would suggest continuing as the Phantom Thieves. He had hoped their battle with Kamoshida would've marked the end of his tenure as a thief, but now he has agreed.

He has agreed and he does not know how to move forward.

Or rather, he does.

But the notion leaves a putrid taste in his mouth, a strangling fetor in his nostrils. He hates it.

Because the only way Akira can be the leader of the Phantom Thieves, is if he becomes just like the one person he swore he would never emulate.

_It's all a box_.

He'll never get out.

He'll never get out.

His head grows lighter, and his hand falls to the lock on the stall's door.

He'll never get out.

He'll never get out.

"Don't think like that."

Akira looks at Rokuro as the latter speaks. The boy is his age, a familiar mop of uncombed black hair atop his head, but the similarities stop there. His face is all edge; his jawline thin and straight, his nose hooked downward. Rokuro's eyes always seem to be darting around, even though there's nothing to look at in the cell. There's an energy beneath them, but it seems cruel to Akira. He does not know what Rokuro has done to be here, and the boy has not offered it up, but Akira cannot help but think he earned his place here.

"Think what way?" He asks. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't need to." He is sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall, and extends one long arm with one long finger and points at Akira. "You've got the look of a guy that's lost all hope. You're thinking, 'That's it for me, I'm done. This is the end of the very short road that was my life.'"

Akira looks back up at the ceiling. "I wasn't thinking that, but now that you mention it..." He trails off, leaving the implication clear.

Rokuro lets his arm drop and shakes his head. "You need to open your eyes to the possibilities, man." His words are quick and clear, almost like he's biting them off. "There's always a way out.  You have to take up the responsibility to find it."

_It's our freakin' responsibility!_

Akira's hands fly to his chest, to his head. But he is unharmed. There is no pressure there. No nausea, no acid churning in his chest. Nothing. So why does he feel as if there should be?

"What're you doing?” Rokuro asks. "Is my brilliance too much for you?" He laughs at his quip, but Akira is too... what is he? Fazed? Confused?

He looks back at Rokuro. "Where are we?"

"Huh? The hell is wrong with you?” His face grows serious and his voice, quiet. "They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"I-" Akira starts, but he can't finish. His mouth is suddenly desert dry and his words shrivel and die in his throat. His head pounds, he aches everywhere. His hands shake.

"Hey, hey," Rokuro says. He unfolds himself, stands and makes his way over to Akira's cot. "Are you okay? You can talk to me, you know."

_Just, please remember. You can talk to us. Please. Remember that._

There's something he needs to decide. A choice he must make. What was it? He hears a voice, small and indecipherable. It's sporadic, but the longer it goes, the more of his attention it takes.

_How far are you willing to go for your rehabilitation?_

"This isn't right," he manages to choke out.

His eyes shift to Rokuro, to the boy's cot, to the walls, to the ceiling, to the thick metal door shut and secured from the outside. This isn't where he is supposed to be. This isn't where he is.

He has already been here.

Rokuro's hands grip his wrists. "Calm down, man. Calm down."

_"Hey? You okay, kid? Answer me!”_

Rokuro leans down, his eyes inches from Akira's own. "Just remember, Akira-kun. There's always a way out."

And Akira looks up into his cellmate's eyes and whispers, "Is there?"

His vision grows hazy. What he sees begins to twist into other shapes. Rokuro is gone, disintegrated, and in his place Akira sees a pair of alert, concerned eyes, in a lean, tanned face.

He shakes his head. The voice repeats and repeats until the words become crystal. "Are you alright? Seriously, kid, answer me!"

_Oh_.

He is on the floor of the bathroom's stall. The door is open, he must've unlocked it before he had passed out. A man is crouched before him, dressed in a stylish but sensible dark brown suit, a red tie. There is a legislature's pin in his lapel. "Kid?" He asks. "Kid?"

Akira's mouth creaks open. "I-"

The man blinks in surprise.

"I can hear you, sir."

The man lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "You had me worried. I was about to call for a doctor." He nods to the bathroom stall. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," Akira says. The man holds out his hand. Akira takes it and is pulled to his feet. "Thanks."

The man meets his eyes. "You're not on drugs, are you?"

Akira shakes his head. "No." He looks down at the floor he had just been sitting upon. "But I guess I can see why you'd think that."

The man frowns. "Well, you look alright now. Would you like me to call someone for you?"

"No, I'm fine. Really."

"Alright, alright," the man says, and pats his shoulder amicably. "You should go home and get some rest, though. And set up a doctor's appointment as soon as you can." He smiles. "Hopefully it's just stress."

"Stress?" Akira asks, then thinks about everything. He smiles. "Heh. Yeah. I guess it is stress."

The man turns towards the sink. "You're young. It's natural to feel stressed about your future. But," and he turns on the water. "Let me tell you something my own father used to tell me." The color leaves his face and an uncomfortable look crosses his face. "Um... it's, uh..."

Akira blinks. "Are you okay?"

The man's head shakes slowly, from side to side. "I'm sorry, I-" He begins, but does not finish.

Instead, he turns back to the sink, and a jet of vile smelling, black bile spews from his lips, splashing down into the virgin white sink.

Akira shouts and jumps back.

The man manages a single intake of breath, before more black liquid vomits out of him, forming a thick, obsidian pool in the sink's receptacle.

Akira is frozen, his limbs wanting desperately to move, but unable to do so.

The man begins to convulse, and a horrible moaning escapes his throat. His face turns towards Akira.  His eyes are bone white. His skin is beyond pale. The black bile leaks, not just from his mouth, but from his eyes, his nose, even his ears. It pours from him like a faucet, dripping down upon his crisp suit, staining it.

He manages one shuddering step towards Akira and then falls to the floor, and moves no more.

The silence stretches for a few moments, before Akira can think to scream, "HELP!"

His body executes a series of uncoordinated actions. He takes a few steps forward, then more back. He reaches out his hands and then retracts them. He looks around as if he's expecting to _see_ something, but this is just a bathroom. Just a bathroom.

"HELP!" He keeps screaming as he does these things, and it is after the fourth shout that people run into the bathroom.

They are young men, dressed in well-maintained suits, and when they see the man on the floor they cry out, "Sir!" and rush to his side.

There are three of them in total and they crouch down and begin to hover around the body and yes, it's a body, Akira knows this just like he knows his name is Akira Kurusu, even as they check the pulse and find it gone. "What happened?" One of them shouts at him.

Akira has forgotten how to speak, which is odd since he had just been screaming for help. What had happened?

"Shit," one of the men say. "He's not breathing!"

"Call a damn ambulance!" Another is shouting.

Still the third is looking at Akira with hard eyes and yelling, "What happened, dammit?"

Then, Akira's mind begins to work and the oldest part of his brain, screams at him to _RUN_. He begins to shimmy his way past the trio of men still crouched on the floor.

One of them has pulled out his cellphone and is hastily requesting medical assistance.

The one who has been shouting at him notices his flight and points one authoritative finger at him. "Stay right there, kid!" And then Akira is gone. He is out the door and in the hall and sprinting into the huge dining area and everyone is still seated at their tables and talking in hushed voices and don't even realize a man is dead just back that way and he barrels his way past old people who look at him with judging eyes and he's pretty sure he passes the man who gave him grief earlier but he has no time for that and he reaches his table and grabs his bag and Morgana yowls and asks what’s wrong, but Akira ignores this and runs and runs and runs.

#

It is late. Takemi stares at her notes, turns to her computer, and plugs in some new figures. A new simulation begins to run. She yawns and stretches her arms overhead. It has been a long day, but a slow one. No patients, but the lack of any outside distraction meant she had to focus primarily on the tiring work of developing her medicine.

She knows it is a good thing she is doing, but damn if it can't be slow and _boring_ sometimes.

The simulation won't complete for another two hours. If she goes home, she can sleep, and come back early to view the results with fresh eyes. It's better than sitting here with nothing to do.

She stands up, sheds her lab coat, and dons her leather jacket.

There's a knock at the clinic's door. With a tired groan, she schleps out of her office, around the corner into the waiting room, and pulls it open. The words, "Sorry, but we're closed," die on her lips when she sees Akira Kurusu standing there.

His hair is matted from the rain. His glasses are streaked with droplets. He is absent his bag, but his hands are not in his pockets. He holds them up. They are shaking. Badly. "Do you have anything that can deal with this?" He asks.

"Come inside," she says, and holds the door for him.

It is a short time later, and Akira sits in the now familiar examination room, propped up on the table. When he shifts, the sanitary paper crinkles beneath him.

Takemi reenters the room with a mug of something hot. Akira watches the steam as it rises off the liquid, and he asks, "What's this?" as she holds it out to him and he takes it into his hands.

"Tea," she says. "Chamomile."

"No drugs?" He asks, taking a sip.

She shakes her head. "No drugs."

"Thanks Doc," he says, then smiles a bit. "Can I call you Doc?"

"No."

He nods. "Okay."

She stands there and watches him slowly drain the mug. The tremors in his hands have diminished. They’re not bad enough to cause spillage, but they are present, and that worries her.

_What the hell happened?_ A million other questions zip through her mind, but for whatever reason, the thing she winds up asking is, "Where's your cat?"

"Back home," Akira says. "He insisted on coming, but I told him I wanted some time alone."

"Is that why you take him to school? Because he insists on it?"

Akira shrugs. "Pretty much."

Takemi lets out an exasperated sigh, but allows the boy to finish the mug. He holds it out to her. She takes it, sets it down on the counter, and turns back to him. "Feel better?"

"A bit."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" She asks.

He nods, but doesn't say anything. He just sits there, silent, staring out of his streaked glasses, at the floor.

She frowns, steps forward and draws his glasses off his face. He looks up then, startled, but she pulls down a clump of paper towels from the dispenser in the corner of the room and begins to wipe them. "You shouldn't look through these if they're dirty. You'll get a headache."

"I don't actually need those," he says.

"Really?" She asks, and holds them up. She can see through them perfectly. _They're just for show?_ "Why do you wear them, then?"

"I used to have a reason," he says, and then, "A man died in front of me."

Takemi feels her blood go cold. His words are spoken with such dispassion, such distance. A thousand different reactions war their way through her, and the victor makes her straighten, look him in the eye and say, "I assume you're not responsible?"

Akira blinks at her, then starts to laugh. "No," he says, as his laughter builds. "Wasn't me. I don't know what happened." His mirth increases. "He helped me up. I was on the ground and he helped and he said something..." He shakes his head, his laughs quick and mean barks more than anything. "Isn't that messed up? He helped me up, and he died in front of me, and I can't even remember what he _told me_."

And then his laughter isn't laughter anymore. His eyes shut themselves, tight, but tears shunt from them nonetheless. His lips spread into a pained grimace and awful, abrupt sobs break from him.

Takemi watches this for a moment, then she sets the glasses down on the counter. She walks over to the examination table. Hops up onto it. Shifts around until she's sitting next to him.

He continues to cry.

Takemi doesn't hold his hand. She doesn't put her arm around his shoulder. She just sits there.

When he squeaks out, "I don't know what to do," she replies with, "It's alright."

"I don't know what happened. One second we were talking and the next..."

"It's alright."

He shakes his head. "And I thought it was all over. I wanted it to be all over. I don't know how to be a leader. I don't know how to be what they want me to be, without becoming like _him_."

Takemi has no idea what he's talking about. Was this _him_ different from the _him_ that was dead? She couldn't tell, but still, she says, "It's alright."

"I don't want to be like him."

Again, which ‘him?’ "It's alright."

Then, Akira shakes silently for a time.

_This_ , Takemi thinks. _Is not how I wanted to spend my night_. She'd wanted some sleep. Maybe a nightcap. But here she was, with this damn Kurusu kid.

_At least his wounds have healed nicely._

He finishes after a little while, but doesn't move. Neither does she. She sits there, committed now. "I don't want to upset you, but I want you tell me what happened tonight."

He tells her he felt lightheaded in a bathroom. He tells her he fell down. He tells her a man helped him up. He tells her what happened after.

_That was no heart attack. No brain aneurism. God, what the hell did he witness?_ "And you're sure it's wasn't, _blood_?"

He nods. "It was black. Like tar, but more fluid."

_Some sort of new virus?_ No. Those didn't just pop up out of nowhere like in the movies. But if it was, had Kurusu been infected? Had she? She shakes her head clear. _Don't be stupid. No virus can turn you from normal Good Samaritan into white-eyed, vomit-zombie that quickly._

The paramedics and the doctors who would investigate would get to the bottom of it. They always did. Her only responsibility was to the young man seated next to her.

"I think you need to talk to someone. A professional someone."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine."

"No. You're not. You just witnessed something horrible. And then you showed up at my clinic, shaking like a leaf. Then you sat here and cried for ten minutes. Sorry, Kurusu, but you're very clearly _not_ fine."

He's quiet again, this time for a few minutes. Then he says, "I'll think about it."

"Oh," she says, finally standing. "You better do more than think about it." She snatches his glasses up off the counter and returns them to him. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

"I'm sorry for coming here," he says, and stands. His glasses are clean, but they reflect the dull fluorescents of the room. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Oh, stop," she says. "The penitent schoolboy routine isn't a good look for you. If you keep it up, I'll force feed you some of my medicine. Maybe then, you'll just call me 'sexy lady' for twenty minutes before passing out, like you did that one time."

Akira blushes, but smiles. He follows her out of the room, down the hall, and into the waiting area.

Takemi opens the front door to the clinic and turns to glance at him.

Akira moves forward, then stops, and stiffens. "You watch the news?"

"Was that a question?"

"Yes."

She shrugs. "On occasion. Why?"

"You've heard about Kamoshida." This is most definitely not a question.

Takemi stares at him for a moment, then looks away. "I did. Was he the one that..." she trails off, and gestures to her face.

Akira must read the implication loud and clear, because he nods. "Aren't you curious? Why didn't you ask about it?"

She sighs and shakes her head. "Because you've clearly got enough on your plate tonight, Kurusu. And, frankly, I've a feeling that conversation would be too damn exhausting. _You_ are too damn exhausting."

When he grins, it almost looks like his normal one. "Try walking in my shoes for a day."

Takemi glances down at her own high heels. "Might be a nice change of pace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a swell shindig that turned out to be!
> 
> To be honest, I'm not all that happy with this chapter. I think the imagery and descriptions work well, but Akira's mental state was harder to navigate than I anticipated, and I'm worried I may have cut a few corners. No chapter has been through this many revisions since 'Clear Consciences.'
> 
> Regardless, I'm happy the chapter is at least done, and that my classes are done (for two weeks, anyway), and that all you wonderful folk are still finding time to read my fic. Now, all of you have yourselves a wonderful weekend!


	24. Fallout

5/2

Akira wakes from unintelligible nightmares to a clear sky. Morgana sleeps soundly alongside him. He reaches out, scratches the cat's head, and proceeds with his routine.

He stretches.

He packs his books.

He sheds his pajamas.

He dons his school clothes.

He buttons his uniform.

He ties his shoes.

He keeps his mind as clear as he can, free of errant thoughts revolving around black bile and Phantom Thievery.

Sojiro comes upstairs. His usually rigid face is now deflated into a mix between worry and confusion.

"Maybe it'd be better if you stayed home today," he says.

Akira frowns. Takemi had walked him home the night before, and had pulled Sojiro to the side and explained the situation as best she understood. The man had been appropriately shocked, and even more so to learn later, through the nightly news, that the deceased was one, Yukio Kan, an up-and-coming politician in the 'New Dawn' segment of the Diet. Putting a name to the face had done little to quell Akira's tensions, especially since the official cause of death had yet to be declared. Instead, a vague 'complications' had been thrown out, as if that explained everything.

Morgana, awake, hops off the bed and puts a paw on Akira's foot. "I think you should listen to him."

Sojiro tries to smile. "See? Even Prince is worried about you."

Akira kneels and presents his open bag to Morgana. "Thanks, but I'm okay." His friend stares at him for a few moments, before climbing into his carrier.

Sojiro shakes his head. "Kid, you saw a man die last night." He takes a step forward. "Last week a bunch of kids kicked the hell out of you, and two weeks before _that_ you were involved in a train crash. For God's sake, any one of those things would be enough to traumatize someone. If you're _okay_ , then I'm the Emperor."

Akira smiles and stands. "I didn't think you were that old," he says.

"Dammit, Akira," Sojiro growls. "Stop messing around! This is serious. People aren't supposed to just brush these things off."

"I thought you wanted me in school."

"Don't be petulant," Sojiro replies, and shrugs. "You've got most of this week off anyway, right? What's another day? I can keep the cafe closed. You can stay up here. Sleep. Whatever."

"I..." Akira starts, then trails off. His gaze falls upon the couch and stays there. "I want to see my friends."

Sojiro's eyebrows rise. "You've got friends?"

Unbidden, the corners of Akira's mouth twitch upward. "You don't have to sound surprised."

Sojiro crosses his arms. "Well, with the way you cart that cat around, I figured he was your only friend."

Morgana pops his head out of the bag and meows. Akira reaches out a finger and strokes his ear. "I have a few more."

The older man shuts his eyes, a weary look writ across his face, and lets out a sigh. "Fine," he says. "What do I know? You want to go to school, I won't stop you." He jabs one, solitary, stern finger into Akira's face. "But Takemi is a heck of a lot smarter than me. She's a doctor. And _she_ says you need to talk to someone. Like a therapist."

Akira meets his eyes and sees no leeway there. "Alright," he says. "I'll look for a therapist, okay?"

"Do more than look, Akira," Sojiro says, but then he moves to the side. "Breakfast is on the counter."

"Thanks," Akira says, and walks past him.

Sojiro follows him downstairs, and when Akira sets himself up onto the bar's stool, he says, "And if you need anything today, you better damn well call me."

"Understood," Akira says, and begins to eat.

#

Lunchtime arrives and finds Akira, Ann and Morgana on Shujin's roof.

"Ugh," Morgana groans, from where he lays in the sunlight. "What's taking Bonehead so long? I thought you texted him before lunch even started."

"I did," Akira says with a shrug. "I don't know where he is."

Ann lays sprawled in one of the lawn chairs. "This _sssssucks_ ," she moans. "If they're giving us the rest of the week off, why'd we even have to be here today?"

"Who knows?" Akira says, checking his phone to see if Ryuji has replied. "Probably some dumb administrative reason."

Ann sits up, straight and wide-eyed. "Oh! Did you hear? Apparently, some guy totally died at the hotel last night, right after we left. Isn't that freaky?"

Akira swallows. "Yeah," he says, slowly. He'd been intending on waiting until Ryuji arrived to discuss this. "About that..."

"Yo!" Comes a voice from the roof's entrance. All three thieves look and find Ryuji, hand raised in greeting, a broad smirk on his face. Behind him stands Mishima, lips pressed together in a tight white line, eyes darting from one teen to another.

Akira's shoulders droop. "Hey," he says.

"What took you so long?" Ann asks, a pout on her face. Morgana nods, but remains silent.

"I was chattin' with this guy," Ryuji says, and pats Mishima on the shoulder. "Turns out, we had _a lot_ to talk about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ann asks.

But then Mishima, who looks to be quivering, shoots past Ryuji and blurts out, "Are you guys really the Phantom Thieves?"

Silence.

Then, everyone speaks at once.

"Like, what?" Ann asks, her voice high. "No way!"

"Of course not," Akira says.

"What'd you say, Ryuji?" Morgana yowls.

"Guys," Ryuji says, shrugging, the grin still stapled onto his face. "I already told him."

"What?" Morgana hisses.

"Ryuji!" Ann screams.

"Why?" Akira asks, straightening. His heart starts to beat faster. He feels his skin flush. _What if he puts it online? He already put all my other shit online. He'll put this there too!_

"Guys, chill!" Ryuji says, patting the air with his hands. He walks up behind Mishima and throws and arm around his shoulder. "Mishima here, is the creator of the PhanSite."

Three sets of eyes turn toward Mishima, but no one speaks until Akira asks, "How do you know?"

"Eh?" Ryuji replies, his smile shaking just a bit. "What'd you mean?"

"He just walked up to you and said, 'I'm the guy who made the PhanSite, are you a Phantom Thief?' How do you know he's not lying?"

"Uhh, well," Ryuji says, paling. He removes his arm from Mishima. "You see-"

Mishima takes another step forward. "I'm not lying!" He pulls his phone from his pocket. "Here, I'll prove it to you!" He begins to type something into his phone, face scrunched up in concentration. "Everyone check the PhanSite's front page in thirty seconds, I'm logging in as the admin and I'll type a random string of numbers there."

The silent thirty seconds seems to last a lot longer, but after the allotted time, Akira sees, as promised, a random set of numbers posted by 'Admin' on the front page of their new site.

"There, you see?" Mishima asks, a newly minted grin on his face. "I told you!" No one says anything. His smile falters and he reddens. "So, um, look. The reason I made this site was so I could support you guys! I'm like, your number one fan, and I felt that more people should know about you."

"Why?" Akira asks.

"W-why?" Mishima replies.

"Guys," Ryuji says, stepping forward. "Have you seen the site? I mean, have you really taken a look at it? People are _requesting_ our help!"

"Seriously?" Ann asks, and lowers her gaze back to her phone.

"Uh-huh," Mishima puts in. "A lot of people heard about how you got Kamoshida to confess. I mean, they talked about it on the news, how he was abusing us and everything. But the news also mentioned the Phantom Thieves and the calling card. I'm sure most people think it's just a joke, but there are a lot of people out there that believe in you!"

"Yeah," Akira says. "A full two percent."

"That's better than zero! And if you guys start fulfilling the requests on the site, and proving that you're real, that number will skyrocket!"

Akira glances down at Morgana and whispers, "What'd you make of all this?"

The cat purrs and hops up into Akira's lap. "I don't like how Ryuji just spilled the beans, but if we can become a part of the public subconscious... well, I'm all for it."

"Why?" Akira asks.

"I'll explain later," Morgana whispers.

"Think about it," Ryuji says, his grin back in force. "All those other big time groups, like Medjed and Tatterdemalion, people _know_ them. If we're gonna compete with those guys, we’ve got to become household names, just like them!"

"Compete?" Akira asks, jaw set, hands clenched into fists.

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

Ryuji groans. "How are we gonna change the hearts of bad guys, and how are we gonna help people, if they don't even know we exist? We're not robbing museums or banks! If someone's in trouble, just like Shiho or Mishima were with Kamoshida, how will they know they can ask us for help, if they don't even believe in us, or have a place where they can reach us?"

Ann frowns. "I guess that makes sense."

Mishima nods. "Right? So, let me tell you some more about this site.” Akira sits and listens to the boy rattle off various terms and features. The words flow in one ear, and dance out the other. He keeps his mouth shut, choosing instead to move his jaw around in slow, clocklike circles. His hands have yet to unclench.

Eventually, the boy leaves. The four thieves are left upon the rooftop and from Akira’s perspective, everyone seems convinced the PhanSite is a fantastic idea. “Ryuji,” he says, his voice low.

“What’s up, dude?”

 _Keep it together._ “The next time you’re going to tell someone about us,” and he looks up into his friend’s eyes. Whatever Ryuji sees there pales him by another shade. “Please ask us, first.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Ann says, nodding. “I know Mishima is harmless and all, but revealing ourselves should be something we all decide to do.”

“Absolutely, Lady Ann,” Morgana says. He narrows his eyes at the blonde boy. “You could’ve blown our entire operation!”

“Alright, alright,” Ryuji mumbles, rubbing the back of his head. “My bad, okay? It’s just, he came to me and told me he was the one that made the PhanSite. Isn’t that kind of a big risk, too? If we weren’t the Phantom Thieves, he’d have just revealed himself to us as the administrator for their website.”

Ann frowns and sighs. “Well, whatever. It is what it is. Just check with us next time, okay?” Ryuji nods and offers more affirmations. Then, Ann continues, “But, I’ve been looking through these Requests, and some of them are kind of scary.”

“What’d you mean?” Akira asks, taking out his own phone.

“I mean, people are posting the _full names_ of the people whose hearts they want us to change. Isn’t that kind of messed up?”

Akira finds his way to the site and begins to flip through them. “Yeah, but a lot of these are petty. This one girl wants us to change her mom’s heart because, ‘she won’t let me do anything fun,’ and this one is asking us to change his brother’s, because he keeps ‘looking at my stuff.’”

"What'd you expect?" Morgana asks. "The majority of people who know about us would be Shujin students, it makes sense that the users would be primarily composed of them."

"Whoa," Ann says, eyes widening.

"What's up?" Ryuji asks.

"There's one here that's a bit freaky." She clears her throat and begins to read. "'A few weeks ago, I broke up with my boyfriend. Ever since then, I can't get it out of my head that he's been stalking me. Whenever I go outside, especially at night, I get the sense that he's right behind me. At first, I could brush it off, but now it's really starting to scare me. I don't know what to do, and the police say they can't help unless he actually threatens me, but what if it’s too late by then? Please, change his heart Phantom Thieves! His name is Nakanohara Natsuhiko."

"Damn, that is scary," Ryuji says.

Morgana stretches out his paws. "If we don't do something, this girl could be in some serious trouble."

"Yeah," Ann says, putting away her phone. "If that guy keeps it up, he may eventually get violent."

"Well, wait a second," Akira says. "Don't we have to confirm that he has a Palace, before we can change his heart?"

A small chuckling sound emanates from Morgana. "I was hoping you'd ask about that. The truth is, no. We can change this Natsuhiko guy's heart, without him having a Palace."

"For real?" Ryuji asks, sitting up. "How?"

"Allow me to explain, Mementos," the cat says.

#

Ryuji pauses, the chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Wait, for real?”

Akira nods.

School is out. It is now Golden Week, and the Phantom Thieves have a plan.

But.

But Akira could not keep it inside, and so after classes had ended, he’d asked Ryuji and Ann – and naturally, Morgana – to the diner in Shibuya. He tells them what occurred after they left the hotel.

The two blondes sit across from him, and Morgana is curled up on top of his bag, a sad look on his face.

Ann blinks, and reaches into her school bag.

“So, like, he freakin’ _died_? Right in front of you?”

“Yeah,” Akira says. Ann continues to rummage around in her bag. “He started puking all this black stuff and it leaked from his eyes and nose and… it was awful.”

Ryuji sets his chopsticks back down, food forgotten. “Holy shit. Dude, are you okay?”

Ann pulls out a wad of school paper from her bag.

“I think so,” Akira says. “I mean, I wasn’t at the time, but now… I think I’m alright.”

Ann works the papers into a roll. Then she stands, leans over the table, raises the freshly-made cylinder, and brings it down onto Akira’s head.

“Ow,” he says, more surprised than hurt. It is paper, after all.

“Jerk!” She hisses, and hits him again. And again. “Jerk! Jerk!”

“Uh, Ann?” Ryuji asks, looking around at the room. Customers are beginning to stare. “What’re you doing?”

"Why didn't you call us?" Ann asks. "Why did you go to school today? You should've stayed home! You should've gone to the doctor's or something!" Her brows are knitted together and her words are sharp. She whacks him on his head again.

"Stop," Akira says. He leans back in his seat and raises his hands, hoping to ward her off. "I went to Takemi's last night, right after."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't call us!" She swings again, and still somehow hits him.

"Lady Ann?" Morgana asks. "I think you've made your point."

"Like hell!" She spits. "Do you know what I did last night?"

Akira shakes his head. "What?"

"I watched my dramas until midnight! That's it. That's all I did. Why didn't you call me?" She thwacks him once more.

"I'm sorry," Akira says, shrinking away. "I promise, if someone ever dies in front of me again, I'll give you a call."

Ann drops back into her seat. The roll of papers sits in her lap. She dips her head forward, and when she speaks, her anger is gone. "Shiho jumped off a building, Akira."

Ryuji's expression softens. "Ann..."

Akira feels his throat go dry.

"It was the worst thing ever. I thought she was going to die. She was hurting _that much_ and I didn't realize. Or maybe I did realize but I didn't say anything, I don't know!" She looks up at him, and Akira can see her eyes misting. "So, I'm never going through something like that. Not again. If something is happening to you, Akira, _you have to tell me_. I can't... I can't watch another friend jump." She stops speaking, and just sits there, looking at him. She sniffles, just a bit, but no tears fall from her eyes.

"Lady Ann," Morgana says, but nothing else.

Ryuji reaches out and rests a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Ann. Cut him some slack. He was probably too freaked out."

Akira can't meet her eyes anymore, and lowers them to the tabletop. "I'm sorry, Ann. I really am."

She shakes her head. "Promise me that you'll talk to me about everything that's bothering you. Or, if you don't want to talk to me, talk to Ryuji. Or Morgana. Someone, Akira. There has to be someone."

He nods. "Okay."

She shakes her head, vehemently this time. " _No_. Say it. Say you promise."

A few seconds pass. Then, he says, "I promise."

"Good," she says, and wipes her sleeve across her face. "Oh, God. You're gonna make me cry, you jerk. And I'm so sick of doing that."

"Yo," Ryuji says, turning towards Akira. "But for real, you should probably talk to someone."

Akira smiles. "You're like, the third person who has told me that."

His eyes widen. "Well, it's true. That's some serious shit you saw!" He shakes his head. "Honestly, was it too much to ask for _one day_ where we could just kick back and chill? I feel bad for you, man. We had an awesome meal, and then someone's head exploded right in front of you."

"Ryuji!" Ann growls.

But Akira laughs. "Yeah, it was pretty horrifying." He fixes Ryuji with a grin. "I almost pissed myself."

"Good thing you were in a bathroom, then," Ryuji replies, wearing a matching smile to Akira's. Then he starts to laugh as well.

The two boys continue this way for a few moments, as Ann watches them. "Honestly," she says, after a time. "I don't understand you two morons."

"That makes two of us," Morgana says, with a shake of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you all had a great weekend! I spent the majority of mine in the car on two separate six hour journeys! Thank God for Audible! I want to thank everyone for their comments and whatnot about the last chapter. As I said, it went through a lot of revisions, but I'm glad many of you seemed to like it!
> 
> Now then, an update. As I've mentioned before, I'll be getting married soon and taking my honeymoon. Given that the week leading up to my wedding will most likely be busy as all hell, and that for the two weeks I'm on my honeymoon, I won't be doing much writing, I'm thinking that my break will begin on September 11, and probably stretch through the rest of the month of September. It stinks to take that big block of time off, but the reality of my situation is that even if I manage to do a lot of writing during that time frame, I don't know what my internet connection is going to be like. Plus, I'll be in completely different time zones which will probably really mess up my posting schedule. I'll keep you all up to speed the closer I get to the actual date.
> 
> Regardless, thank you very much for reading Crimson, and for all the wonderful other things you people do. I'll see ya soon!


	25. The First Request

5/3

Akira does another circuit through the front of Rafflesia, checking to ensure all the flowers look purchasable. Hanasaki-san is particular about all the variants in the storefront. "The customer," she always says, "should be drawn to us from across all of Shibuya's Underground. Before they see us, they should smell us, and before they smell us, they should have heard of us." Akira isn't quite sure what she was talking about - probably something to do with marketing - but the task gives him the opportunity to spend a lot of his shift in the storefront, which allows him to sweep the mall's crowds with his eyes again and again.

"Um, Akira-kun?"

He turns from the jasmines to find Haru, her hat pulled low over her face, overalls dusted with dirt. "What's up?"

Hanasaki-san is by the register, ringing up a customer.

Haru nods towards the flowers Akira stands before. "I think they're as hydrated as they're going to get."

Akira glances down at the spray bottle in his hand. "Right," he says. "Sorry."

She shakes her head. "Oh, no. It's fine. I just wanted to know if you were alright. You seem a bit distracted today."

_Phantom Thieves. Yukio Kan. Nakanohara Natsuhiko. The PhanSite. Mishima. Ryuji. Shiho. Ann. Kamoshida. Makoto. Mementos. My family._

He shrugs. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"I see," she replies, and collapses into a short silence. "I, um, don't see Mona-chan anywhere. Did you not bring him today?"

"He's out with friends," Akira replies.

Haru smiles. "Cat friends?"

"Nope. Regular human ones."

"O-oh," she says. Akira sets the spray bottle down on the nearest stool and rolls his shoulders. When he yawns, she asks, "Tired?"

"Very."

"Good thing we're on break then," she says. "Are you doing anything for Golden Week?"

 _Just crime fighting. Or crime, depending on your perspective._ "Not really," he replies. "You?"

She shakes her head. "To be honest, I didn't do much this morning." She giggles. "I haven't been lazy in a long time, but my father was out at a meeting, and there was no one at the house, so I figured I could just sleep in."

Akira smiles and nods. "Must've been nice."

"It was." Haru glances around and Akira looks back out at the crowd.

 _Come on_ , he thinks. _She's just trying to talk with you. Say someth-_

"So," Haru says, a mischievous lilt in her voice. "Have you talked with Mako-chan lately?"

Akira turns his attention back to her.

Her face is the very picture of innocence. Her eyes are directed upward at the ceiling. Her hands are clasped behind her back, and she rocks back and forth on her heels.

"Just, uh, the other day, in fact," Akira says, turning back to the flowers, and grabbing the spray bottle once more.

"Any _plans_?" She asks, stretching out the last word.

"Not really," Akira says, hating that he can feel the red in his face. "We're just-"

"Excuse me?" Comes a nervous, shaky voice.

Akira turns around, and stiffens when he sees a young woman in her early twenties, standing beside them. She wears an ankle length brown skirt and a red blouse. Her eyes dart about, and she cannot seem to stop moving her hands.

"Oh," Haru says, disengaging from the conversation and moving over to her. "May I help you, ma'am?"

The woman clears her throat, and says, as if she has rehearsed it, "I would like to buy eleven red roses, please."

Haru blinks. "Eleven?" She glances back at Akira, who says nothing. "Are you sure," she says, turning her gaze back to the woman, "that you don't want a dozen?"

The woman shakes her head. "Eleven, please."

"Alright then." Haru turns back to Akira and says, "Shall we?"

"Would you mind starting?" Akira asks, and steps back towards the storage room. "I'll be right back."

"Oh," Haru replies, frowning. "Okay."

Akira ducks into the storage room, withdraws his phone and sends a group text.

 ** _AKIRA_** _: She's here. Brown skirt. Red blouse_.

It doesn't take long before the response comes in.

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Awesome! We'll take it from here!_

#

Nakanohara waits for her to ascend to the street level, and then follows her up the steps. It is _so_ easy to track her, thanks to the flowers she bought from that hole in the wall place in the Underground.

Still, it eats at him.

Who could she be buying flowers for? Had she taken another lover? Already? It's absurd. She was his. It was for reasons like these that he kept tabs on her. She couldn't be trusted. She was a snake.

Nakanohara peers out into the growing night, and sees her walking towards the crosswalk, straight-backed, the roses clutched against her chest. It's as if she hasn't a care in the world. He works his jaw, soundlessly, and the familiar grating of his teeth rubbing into each other keeps him grounded. He sets off across the crosswalk, following in her wake.

She takes off down Central Street, her head straight ahead. From his perspective, she doesn't appear to be looking _anywhere_ except directly in front of her.

For what feels like the hundredth time, he tries to reach across the void between them, to convey his feelings to her in a way that she will understand. He knows it is a childish impulse, a fantasy, but it brings him some kind of comfort.

Well, no. Comfort isn't the right word. He hasn't felt comfort in a long time.

But to open up his heart, to vomit his emotions into the ether of the universe? It almost makes him feel like an artist again. Not that he ever was one. He had only been a trusting fool. He had buried his skepticism during his 'apprenticeship' in favor of promised returns. And then he had been tossed out.

He shakes her head as his one true love turns at an intersection. Can't she understand? He's not doing this because he hates her. He's doing this because he needs her. She'd been the _one thing_ in his life that hadn't been a disappointment. She had to bear that responsibility. They had to bear it together.

He turns to follow her down the intersection, and sees her running. "Huh?" He says, aloud, before he can catch himself. Why would she take off like that?

He starts to pick up his pace, but then he realizes that she's full on _sprinting_ and he hisses out a curse and speeds up too. He was never an athlete, but neither was she. If he can close the distance, he can keep up his watch.

She drops the red roses, and vanishes into a side alley. Nakanohara is a block away and he snarls at anyone in his path, before shoving his way past them. He is panting by the time he reaches the mouth of the alley, and he spins into it and-

Collides with someone, rears back, and falls flat on his ass.

"Gah!" He shouts when he lands.

"Ow!" Comes a voice.

Nakanohara blinks and looks into the wincing face of a young, blonde boy wearing a purple sweatshirt and jeans, sitting on the ground just like him.

A young girl, also blonde, stands over the boy, hands clapped over her mouth. "Oh no! Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," the boy groans. "I'm fine."

The girt swats him on his head. "Not you!" She steps over him and crouches next to Nakanohara. "You! Are you okay?"

"Fine," Nakanohara groans and starts to push himself to his feet.

"Wait, wait," the girl says and puts her hands on his shoulders. "You should stay down. You might be hurt."

"Don't worry about me," the blonde boy, an angry undercurrent to his voice. "I'm perfectly fine."

The girl frowns. "Oh please, your skull is thick enough to take a brick." She looks back at Nakanohara and winks. "I should know, I've thrown a few at him."

"Really," Nakanohara says, sliding himself away from the girl. "I'm alright. I need to get moving."

"Oh?" The girl asks, blinking. "Are you in a rush to get somewhere?"

"I have business, yes."

"Like, what do you do?"

He shoves himself to his feet. "Is that really relevant?" He growls.

The girl looks appropriately cowed, but the boy stands up. "Hey, man! My girlfriend just asked you a simple question. You don't have to be a dick."

"Excuse me?" Nakanohara asks, rounding on the boy.

"No, come on," the girl says, tugging at the boy's sleeve. "It's fine."

"Like hell it is," the boy says. He jabs a finger in Nakanohara's direction. "You collided into me, man! Now, I don't really care, but don't you go lookin' down on her and talking that way to her. Freakin' rude is what it is."

The girl continues to pull on his sleeve. "Seriously, let's just go."

Nakanohara narrows his eyes. "You should listen to your girlfriend. I'm not one you should cross."

"Oh yeah?" The boy asks, stepping up to him. "What's so special about you, jerkwad?"

A sudden, clear thought pierces its way into his mind. _Why am I wasting time here?_ He turns back towards the alley, but his ex is long gone. He does not know which direction she turned at the other end, but given how winding Shibuya's streets and alleys are, she could be anywhere. If she hadn't stopped running, she might've even made it back to the station, and boarded a train.

"Dammit," he spits, glares at the two teens and stomps off.

"Yeah, keep walking asshole," the boy shouts at him.

"Oh, fuck off!" Nakanohara shouts, and doesn't look back. He reaches the end of the alley, and glances around. As he suspected, she's nowhere to be seen.

#

Once Nakanohara turns the corner and vanishes from sight, Ryuji spins on Ann and lifts his hand. Ann, grinning, gives him a high-five. "That was awesome!" She shouts.

"Totally! Did you see how pissed he was?" Ryuji laughs, then sobers. "I hope she managed to get away."

"I bet she did," Ann says, nodding. "We stalled him long enough."

Ryuji looks back down the alley. "So he really was stalkin' her, huh?"

"Looked like it to me.” She squints into the alley. “I don’t see Morgana hiding by that can anymore, so he probably thinks so too." Ann frowns and raises an eyebrow at Ryuji.

"What?" He asks, when he sees her look.

She shrugs. "Nothing. I was just surprised at your acting skills. You really got into your role," and she snaps her fingers, "like that."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Right. Because bein' a loudmouth is something I have no experience in."

Ann throws back her head and laughs. "You're right. It's the role you were born to play."

Ryuji smiles and shakes his head. "We should get back to Akira, let him know we've got all the evidence we need."

Ann nods and follows him as he starts to walk away. "It's all on Mona now. I hope he'll be alright."

Ryuji waves her worries away with a single hand. "He'll be fine."

#

Nakanohara slams the door to his apartment shut.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

He stands in the darkness, his breath heavy and his shoulders quaking. He can't stop picturing the faces of those two blonde delinquents. Can't stop hearing the words that one boy had said to him. _What's so special about you?_ They didn't know. They didn't know. He very nearly was someone, once.

And then that fucking Madarame...

And that woman! She had made everything better and now she wanted to be rid of him? Impossible. _Impossible_.

His apartment smells of yesterday's garbage, but his nostrils adjust quickly. He is used to the stench. He stomps across the floor to the mat and drops down onto it.

In the end, it doesn't matter that he couldn't find her again. He knows where she lives. If he has to, he'll go there directly. Give her an ultimatum. Either she takes him back, or he'll...

He'll...

The doorbell rings.

"Who's there?" He shouts, his voice cracking.

No response.

Nakanohara pushes himself back to his feet and makes his way back to the door, grumbling the whole way. "I'm not interested in whatever you're selling," he shouts through the door.

No response.

With a growl, Nakanohara throws the door open and looks out. There's no one there. He sticks his head out into the hall of the apartment building, and sees what looks like a black cat dashing around a far hall. _Probably belongs to that old hag that lives upstairs._

He is about to go back inside when he notices something on his welcome mat. It is a small card, written in red and black characters. He bends down, and lifts it up.

_Dear Nakanohara Natsuhiko: We know what you're doing. Stalking your ex-girlfriend will not bring her back to you. Your actions and obsessions are ruining both her life and your own. That is why we have decided to change your heart. We will steal the corruption out of you, and you will amend your ways before you do something you can't take back. This will happen tomorrow. Prepare yourself._

_Sincerely, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_

Nakanohara stares at the small card in his hands. "Wh-what the fuck is this?" He shouts. _The Phantom Thieves of Hearts?_ He feels as if he's heard the name before, but for the life of him, he cannot remember where. "No," he says, and slams the door shut. He retreats further into the darkness, his only assailant the thin line of light from the hall that shines beneath his door. "No, she's mine!" He knows what they're talking about, what they're really saying. They're the ones that bitch probably bought flowers for! They're just trying to keep him away from her. He begins to laugh, and it grows until it hurts his throat, but he cannot stop. "She's mine! She's mine! And if I can't have her, _no one can_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always bothered me that the PTs never actually looked for evidence that the Mementos Targets were committing crimes. Anywho, thanks for reading, as always!
> 
> EDIT: Regarding Mementos and Investigations:
> 
> A lot of people are saying that investigating a Mementos target isn't necessary, as their very presence in Mementos proves their guilt.
> 
> I disagree.
> 
> Let me pose a question. How does Mementos work? A few people and I have discussed this in the comments over the past few months, and the general consensus seems to be, no one really knows.
> 
> For instance:
> 
> \- Mementos is supposedly Humanity's palace. But what does that mean, geographically? If someone lives in Canada, and their desires become distorted, would they show up in Mementos? Even though Mementos is apparently located in Tokyo? If Mementos is EVERYONE'S Palace, it would stand to reason that EVERYONE'S shadow would be located there, but we never have confirmation or denial of that.  
> \- How do the shadows work? We know what shadows are, but how do they work within the context of Mementos? Can you locate anyone in Mementos, just by saying their name into the Nav? If you said, 'Dowdz' and 'Mementos' into the Nav, would you be able to locate my shadow? What if my desires are not distorted? What if I'm just chugging along, happily through my life, content? Would I even get a shadow? Or do shadows only appear when desires are distorted? If that's the case, then what about all those people getting carted around on the trains?
> 
> So, Mementos, by itself, was always given a rather hand-wavy explanation.
> 
> But. This is about the investigation of a Mementos target.
> 
> Let's say, for instance, I have a desire for intimacy. Being alone, I feed this desire by the frequent and unhealthy use of an escort service. The more I do this, the more my desires distort, until my views on women are... well, let's just say 'bad.' That being said, I have not actually hurt anyone. All I have done is engaged in consentual inter-course with paid professionals (BTW, I feel like I shouldn't have to point this out, but I'm not recommending or justifying prostitution here, I'm using it an as example). So, I pop off a vortex in Mementos, and my shadow starts pacing around in the dark and talking about how much he loves to bang escorts, or whatever.
> 
> Now, let's say someone who is pissed off at me, for whatever reason, decides to hop on the PhanSite and post a request. 'Dear Phantom Thieves, please change Dowdz's heart, because he's robbing old people and eating babies!' In game, the Phantom Thieves would take one look at that, and hop in Mementos. They can do this, because my desires ARE distorted, but THEY ARE NOT distorted in the way the request makes them seem. The Phantom Thieves are coming to change my heart based on nothing more than my name appearing in Mementos, and some internet stranger's word.
> 
> That's pretty fucked up.
> 
> Now, in that example, my desires were distorted.
> 
> But remember how no one is quite sure how Mementos works? Well, what if you really CAN find anyone's shadow in Mementos? What if the qualification for being in Mementos, is that you DON'T have a Persona? If that's the case, anyone could be in Mementos, and anyone could post anything onto the PhanSite about anyone.
> 
> The Phantom Thieves may not have reasoned all this out themselves, but think about it from another angle.
> 
> Akira Kurusu is a kid accused of a crime he never committed. He is forced to transfer schools and change cities. At his new school, someone (cough cough Mishima cough cough) posts his record online and the rumor mill begins to churn. Akira himself hears numerous fantasies about all kinds of horrible shit he's supposedly done. 
> 
> So, Akira has - phrase it however you'd like - been the victim of internet bullying. So, I would think that Akira, of all people, would choose NOT to just jump into a Mementos Request without confirming the crime first. Because if he does that, he's just doing the exact same thing that was done to him.


	26. Changes

5/4

"Yeah, so this is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Skull says.

Joker cannot disagree. Where before had existed one of many entrances to the Shibuya Underground, now is a gaping maw of rust-red veins strangling the familiar. They pulse and cling to the escalators, the walls, the signs - scrawled upon with a collection of unsettling gibberish - everything.

"Mementos," Mona says. "Humanity's Palace."

Skull shakes his head. "If this is Humanity's Palace, then humanity is pretty messed up."

Joker steps up to the escalator and peers down into the depths. It is a black throat.

Mona hops up onto his shoulder and leans against his head, forelegs crossed over his chest like arms. "You're not scared, are you Joker?" The cat asks, smirking.

Joker smiles. "Natsuhiko's Shadow is down there?" He asks.

Mona nods, turning serious. "He is. I'm sure of it." The cat's eyes narrow. "And so is..." He trails off.

Joker knows what his friend is thinking. The cat had come clean the other day about his lost memories, about the distortion affecting him. The key to unlocking the first and undoing the second lay in the depths of the dungeon they now stood before.

Skull lets out a groan. "You're not gonna be all sad again, are you Mona?" He asks.

The cat turns his head, and Joker can almost hear the bitter rebuke on his friend's tongue, but Skull is smiling.

"We already told you that we're gonna help you get your memories back."

Mona blinks.

"Yeah," Panther says, joining them. "No matter how deep it gets. So stop looking so down every time you talk about them."

Mona averts his eyes. "Thanks, you guys." Then, he shakes his head and shouts. "Okay! Let's do this." He leaps off Joker's shoulder and lands on the first step of the escalator. "Our target isn't even that deep. This will be a great introduction to this place."

Skull pumps his fist in the air and hefts his pipe. "Let's rock!"

Panther grins and Joker, and their leader nods.

The four thieves rush down the escalator, weapons drawn, and hearts set on their task.

And then, at the bottom of the escalator, Mona turns into a bus.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Skull screams, falling back as the smoke from Mona's transformation drifts up into the air.

"Mona!" Panther scream. "Oh my god! Mona!"

"Huh?" The bus asks. "What's wrong?"

Joker stands there, knife held in limp fingers, the terrifying environment surrounding him forgotten. "Uh... you just turned into a bus."

"And?" The cat bus asks.

"And?" Skull shouts, standing. "What'd you mean, 'and?' You just turned into a _freakin'_ bus!"

Panther peers into the windows. "Are you, like, okay?"

"Are you worried about me, Lady Ann?"

"Stop messing around, Mona! Are you okay?"

"Of course, I'm okay."

Joker frowns. "So, maybe we should take a second, so you can walk us through how this works."

Mona, in the form of a bus, proceeds with a rundown of the relationship between cats, buses, and cognition.

At the end of the explanation, Joker shakes his head. "Wait, so, because people sometimes _think_ about cats turning into buses, it lets you _actually_ turn into a bus?"

"Only in the Metaverse," Mona says, his engine whirring like a purr.

Joker looks over at Panther and shrugs. "I don't understand any of this shit."

Skull scratches his head. "Can you turn into a plane?"

"No."

His eyes widen. "Oh! What about a badass car, like a Mustang or Corvette or somethin'?"

"No," Mona shouts.

"How about a submarine?"

"No!" Mona yowls. "I can only turn into a bus. This is it!"

Skull frowns. "Lame."

"Lame?" Mona replies. "Do you have any idea how big this place is? You guys would be screwed if I couldn't do this!"

Joker pushes up his mask and rubs his eyes with gloved fingers. "Okay. So, Mona can turn into a bus. Fine." He slides his mask back into place. "This doesn't change anything, we're still hunting Natusuhiko's Shadow." He smiles. "Mona's ability just lets us get to him faster, right?"

The front radiator of the bus expands in what Joker could almost swear is a grin. "Exactly."

"But, you can change back, right?" Panther asks.

"I can change any time I'd like," Mona replies. "Obviously I'll do it before battle."

She nods. "Well, in that case, I guess it's all aboard the Mona-Mobile!"

Skull looks at Joker as Panther opens one of Mona's doors. "We're not seriously calling it that, right?"

"I kind of like it," Joker says, opening a door on the other side and sliding in. Skull sighs and follows him, and the three thieves sit in the middle row of seats.

"Um," Mona says, after a few seconds. "You do realize that one of you is going to have to drive me, right?"

#

"She's mine, she's mine, she's mine, she's mine." he chants.

Beneath the rat-colored girders, burrowed into the ruins of the Palace of Everyman, he paces.

Eyes aflame in gold, an angry smile on its face, hands running around themselves again and again, the shadow of Nakanohara Natsuhiko pushes itself along.

"She's mine, she's mine, she's mine."

A train rockets past on the track, but the shadow ignores it. Its light bathes him as if in blood, the dark silhouettes of the shadows aboard play across his body like withered tendrils seeking purchase.

"She's mine, she's mine, she's mine."

As faint as its words are, they echo through the tunnel and become a booming mantra, reverberating through the thing's skull, the approximation it has of a brain. They are all it can think, all it can do. And then there is a moment, where a new thought, unbidden, escapes its lips.

"And if I can't have her, no one can."

And from the black that surrounds it, a voice calls out, "That's a selfish way of looking at it."

It halts. The voice had come from above, and the shadow lifts its golden gaze to the girders. "Who said that?" It screams. "Who said that?"

A new voice replies, "We're the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, asshole."

"And we've got a few bones to pick with you." This from a third voice, female this time.

"Phantom Thieves?" The shadow mumbles. "Phantom Thieves? Phantom Thieves?"

That's right. It knows what this is about. It understands.

A knife slashes down from above, and sticks itself into the wall alongside his head. He turns to look, and sees the same card that had been on his doormat the night before, pinned to the wall.

"Target: Nakanohara Natsuhiko!" says yet another new voice, high-pitched and boyish. "Accused of stalking his ex-girlfriend."

"No," he says, his head jerks from side to side. "No, no, no, no."

"Don't bother denying it, jackass. We got all the evidence we needed."

“In order to confirm your crime, we provided your ex with a series of instructions, a number of tasks for her to complete at various locations. From there, all we had to do was follow her, and we ran right into you.”

The shadow remembers now. Remembers the stupid blonde kid he’d crashed into on Central Street. Remembers the stupid pig-tailed bitch who had offered so many apologies.

"No!”

“Sure looked like stalking to me.”

“Shut up! She’s mine, goddammit! She belongs to me! She’s my _property_!”

From above, four dark shapes fall. The shadow of Nakanohara Natsuhiko watches them descend one on each side. They land in a crouch, and four weapons are drawn and aimed down at him.

Joker smirks. “I’d say that this could go well for you, or poorly, but that would be a lie. It’s just gonna go poorly.”

The shadow throws back its head and begins to cackle. “Phantom Thieves? Don’t make me fucking laugh! You think these little antics of yours are really going to change anything? Do anything? That’s not how the world works. That’s not how life works! The weak and stupid get eaten by the strong! The only choice they have is to feast those even weaker and dumber than they are!”

“Geez,” Panther says. “With an outlook like that, it’s no wonder she broke up with you.”

The shadow screams and digs its fingers into its stomach. Black ooze boils forth and congeals upon the ground. Natsuhiko screeches once, and collapses into the obsidian bile.

“The hell?” Skull asks, jumping clear of the puddle. “Now what?”

“He’s transforming into his shadow self!” Mona shouts as the pool rises into a shape. “Just like Kamoshida!”

The black bile twists and bursts into an impish demon, purple bangs hanging low over its face, mouth split in a too-wide grin full of razor teeth. Sharp claws bleed out of its hands, and several metallic gray swirls pepper its pink body. “Change me?” It screeches. “You’ll never change me!”

The monster snarls and hurls itself at Joker, and he leaps back with a cry of, “Arsene!”

His Persona rises up, and the creature cascades into a garden of the black and red tendrils, screaming as they puncture his skin. As he falls back, Joker aims his gun and fires, and the bullets hit the creature’s face, but it only growls and pries itself free of Arsene’s hold. It tilts its head back and roars, and a wave of _something_ spits into the air around it and crashes into Joker.

He grunts as he’s thrown back, and lands in a roll on the tracks.

“Joker!” Panther shouts, then narrows her eyes at the shadow. “You jackass!” Behind her, Carmen blooms, and a fresh wave of fire lances out and envelops the shadow.

It groans, and Joker flips back to his feet. “Agathion!” The little demon spins upward and fires another bout of flame into the thing.

The monster drops to its knees, hands smashing into the dust. “No,” it whispers. “No! I don’t have anything else!” It pushes itself into the air and opens its palms wide, unleashing its claws. “I WON’T LET YOU TAKE HER FROM ME!” It falls towards Panther, who stares, wide-eyed

“Move!” Skull shouts, and slams into her side, pushing her out of the way as the thing falls on him. The monster digs its claws into his shoulders, and Skull screams. The other thieves tense, but the blonde boy’s yell turns into a growl, and he brings his shotgun up and fires point blank into the thing’s stomach. “Get off, asshole!”

“Got your back, Skull!” Mona says, closing the distance between the two, as the monster flies into the air, its entrails a black mess and hanging limply from a hole in its stomach. “Oh, gross.” He hits Skull with a Dia, and then keeps moving, falchion clutched in his paws. “Let’s straighten this jerk out, once and for all!” He jumps in the air towards the falling enemy, and swings his sword in a bright and brilliant slash through the air.

The monster spits out more black as the force of the strike sends it careening into the ground.

And then, Joker is there. The monster looks up, and through its long, purple hair, sees the muzzle of the Phantom Thieves’ leader’s pistol pointing right at him. “You had your fun,” he says. “But it’s time to stop now.” He pulls the trigger.

The shadow drops to the dirt, limp, and evaporates into a cloud of ash.

From this, Nakanohara Natsuhiko, eyes still golden, but absent their glimmer, rises up upon his knees. He looks at the thieves as they close in on him, beseechingly. “Please, you don’t understand. That bastard Madarame, he took everything from me. My art, my life, it felt like he stole my very soul!” He looks down at his hands. “So when she said she liked me, I felt so happy. I thought, if she loved me, if I could be with her, then everything would be okay. The past wouldn’t matter. And then she left me, so-”

Panther huffs. “Whatever happened to you, it doesn’t give you the right to intimidate others.”

“Yeah,” Skull says, rubbing one of his shoulders. “You can’t just lay claim to someone because they used to go out with you. You need to move on, just like everyone else does.”

Mona hops up onto Joker’s shoulder. “Deep down, I bet you knew that what you were doing was wrong.”

The shadow slowly nods. “I did. Oh, god. I must’ve scared her so much. I never wanted that. I just wanted her to take me back.”

Joker speaks. “You can’t ever go back to the past. All you’ve got is your memories of it. If they’re good, cherish them. If they’re not, learn.” The other thieves turn to regard their leader. “Return to yourself, and leave your ex alone.”

A faint white light begins to emit out of the man’s chest. “You’re right,” he says. “I will.” Then he smiles, warm and calm. “Thank you.” Then he is gone. In his place is a small shining orb, and inside that, is a small, framed photo. Joker reaches out and takes it. The frame is elaborate silver, and inside is a photo of Nakanohara Natsuhiko and the woman who had bought the eleven roses. They are both smiling.

“What’s that?” Skull asks, looking over Joker’s shoulder.

“It’s the bud of a treasure,” Mona says. “If we hadn’t stopped him when we did, it could’ve grown more and more until it turned into a palace.”

“It’s a photo of the two of them,” Panther mumbles. “I guess, on some level, he really did love her.”

“Not much of a reward,” Skull says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t know,” Joker says, and runs his fingers along the frame. “We could sell the frame.”

“What about the photo?” Mona asks.

“Let’s leave it,” Joker says, and pulls out the back of the frame, removing the picture. “It doesn’t feel right to take it.”

“It’ll vanish when this vortex does,” Mona says.

“I’d say that’s fitting.” He turns to the others. “Let’s get going.”

“Ugh,” Skull groans, following him. “Does this mean we have to get back into the Mona mobile?”

“Stop complaining,” Mona growls. “You should be honored to drive around inside of me!”

Panther giggles. “That sounds so wrong on so many levels.”

“And where’s the honor?” Skull asks. “You turn into a freakin’ van! It’d be one thing if you turned into a Corvette or something, but a van?”

“At least I can turn into _something_! How else would we get around here?”

Joker listens to them bicker, and takes one last glance at the photo of Nakanohara Natsuhiko and his former lover. Then he lets it drop into the dirt. As he passes, Skull steps on it without even realizing it.

#

He wakes, that night, in the Velvet Room.

He sits up, looks out the bars. “So,” he says to Igor, who cocks its head to the side. “What’s this gift you wanted to give me?”

“You no longer wish to know the whys of your situation?” Igor asks.

“Would you answer those questions, if I did ask?” Igor’s grin grows. “Right.” He stands and drags his way to the cell door.

“You recall my words, those about the crafting of Personas?”

Akira thinks, then nods. “Something like that.”

“I shall show you what I mean.” The desk and its sole occupant shimmers, and then vanishes. Akira blinks at the now empty Velvet Room. Igor’s voice booms from everywhere. “The power of Persona is the strength of your heart. You possess the Wild Card, and thus are granted the use of multiple Personas. By combining those masks, by breaking them apart and stitching them together, you could craft even more distinct, powerful Personas.”

He feels the drifting presence of Justine, floating just before his face. “Our Master presents you with this gift.”

Two guillotines snap into reality, constructed of white, maggoty wood, and scratched, rusted blades.

“Some gift,” Akira mumbles.

“YOURFLIPPANCYISUNWARRANTEDANDFOOLISHINMATETREADLIGHTLY!” Caroline roars.

Akira puts one hand to his head and groans. “Right. Sorry.”

“Think of two of your Personas,” Igor says.

He does it without a moment’s hesitation. Agathion and Andras appear in the cell before him, hovering there, eyes wide and white. “What’s going-“

“Observe.”

The two Personas convulse, and collapse to the floor. They are lifted into the air by _something_ unseen, and moved, as if by many limbs to the guillotines.

“Hey, wait,” Akira says.

The heads of the two struggling Personas are fitted into the round holes at the base of the death machines.

“Seriously, wait!”

They are secured, and the two stop struggling.

“Stop!” Akira shouts.

The blades fall. The heads are struck.

Akira feels himself lurch. A sharp, stabbing pain races through his abdomen, and just like that, is gone. The bodies of the two Personas condense into blue light, float towards the center of the room and slam into each other. Another shape takes form.

It is a turtle, green eyed and shelled. From its back, rises a long red tail, that ends with a dragon’s face. The thing looks at him, and snarling, says, “I am Genbu. I shall be your new mask.” Then it condenses into a blue flame, and snaps across the room and onto Akira’s face.

It feels as if ice slushes through his veins. He doubles over. This is not the same as capturing a Persona in a palace or in Mementos. This is _very_ different.

“I-” Akira starts. His mind feels, muddied, like its coated in a sheen of something sticky.

“In this way,” Igor continues. “You will craft yourself new powers. New Personas. The stronger your bonds, the stronger these will become.” Akira can almost hear the smile in the thing’s voice. “From now on, whenever you wish to make use of this gift, merely proceed to sleep with thoughts of this room, and we shall hear them.”

“Your coming trials will be all the more difficult, inmate,” Justine says. “Perhaps you find this method distasteful, but it is the only way to craft more powerful weapons to use against the enemies you will face.”

Akira retreats to the bed and sits back down. As he begins to rub his temples, the horrid ringing strikes out into the cell. “And now we have reached the end,” Igor says. The two machines vanish and are replaced by the desk once more. He smiles over at Akira. “We’ll see you soon, Trickster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter. It's all over the place. Not my best work. Just another reason why I need to get my shit together over my break. Need to get the quality back up.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading everyone! I'll see you all next week!


	27. Flaws in the Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B-B-B-B-Bonus Chapter!

5/5

Akira narrows his eyes. _Concentrate. You've got this._ A single bead of sweat runs from his brow, down his cheek. Its slide needles its way through his focus. _Come on!_ His hands tighten on his weapon, and with a _whoosh_ , his target speeds towards him.

_Now!_ Akira swings. The baseball clatters into the cage behind him.

"Swing and a miss!" Ryuji shouts, laughing, from behind the grate.

"You're surprisingly bad at this," Ann says, giggling.

Akira grits his teeth and resumes his form. _This time. This time, for sure_.

He misses again. "It's rigged," he calls, nodding. "Definitely."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "It's not rigged, dude. You just suck."

Another pitch. Another miss.

Akira leaves the batting cages with his head hanging low. Morgana sits atop his bag, a sad look on his feline face. "And to think, I put all my expectations on you."

"Oh, shut up." He drops onto one of the benches outside the cages, alongside Ryuji.

Ann squeezes a helmet over her head. "My turn!"

Ryuji yawns. "So," he says, as Ann takes her position in the cage. "Anyone hear anything about the stalker dude?"

"Yeah," Ann says. A ball is pitched. She takes a moment, then swings. _CRACK_. The ball hurls away. "I took a look at the PhanSite this morning. Apparently, Nakanohara called his ex and apologized for harassing her. She was so excited that she made a follow-up post where she told everyone about the whole thing."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "That's incredible! We're two for two!"

Another pitch. Ann swings. _CRACK_. "Me too!" She cries.

Akira takes out his phone and makes his way to the PhanSite. "There's a bunch more requests on here." He scrolls through a few and frowns. "But a lot of them seem like the same stuff as before. ‘Help, my brother's a jerk.' 'My mom just, like, totally doesn't get me.' Junk like that."

"That's too bad," Morgana says, as Ann hits another ball towards the fences. "You're incredible, Lady Ann!"

The girl turns back to them, smiles and flashes a 'V' sign with her fingers, then reassumes her batting stance.

"But if we're really gonna make a name for ourselves," Ryuji says. "We need someone bigger than just some small time stalker. We need to target someone like a celebrity."

"Or a CEO," Ann says, swinging. _CRACK_.

"Or a politician," Morgana says. He looks over at Akira. "Any ideas?"

"Should we-" Akira begins, but then his phone vibrates. He frowns. "It's Mishima."

**_MISHIMA_ ** _: Did you see?! That girl you guys helped totally told everyone about it! The PhanSite is really buzzing!_

Akira shows Ryuji the message. "That dude's got no chill,” the blonde boy says.

"He reminds me of someone," Morgana mumbles.

Ryuji's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Akira ignores their bickering as he replies.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: That's good._

**_MISHIMA_ ** _: Good?! It's great! You guys are total heroes!_

**_MISHIMA_ ** _: BTW, what are you up to later?_

Akira remembers what he told the boy on the school's roof.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: I have work. At the flower shop._

**_MISHIMA_ ** _: You work at a flower shop?_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Yes._

**_MISHIMA_ ** _: OK, cool. Let's meet up after!_

"Hey Ryuji," Akira says.

The boy's eyes follow Ann as she hits another ball. "What's up?"

"You busy tonight?"

"Nah, I've got nothing going on."

"Wanna meet up with Mishima after my shift at the shop ends?"

The boy puts his hands behind his head and frowns. "Sure."

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Sounds good. Ryuji is in too._

**_MISHIMA_ ** _: Okay, awesome!_

Ryuji looks over at Akira. "You're not just asking me to hang out because you don't want to chill with Mishima alone, right?"

Akira flashes him his best grin and says, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Uh-huh." Ryuji turns his gaze back to Ann. "Yo, Ann! Wanna hang tonight with Mishima?"

She shakes her head as the last ball flies towards her. This does nothing to break her concentration and she swings and sends it flying. She steps away from the plate, a smile on her face, and pulls her helmet free. Her blonde curls cascade down to her shoulders. "I can't. I have a shoot downtown later." She exits the cage and stares down at Akira. "You really are going to hang out with Mishima then?"

Akira shrugs. "I guess so."

"Damn," Ryuji says, as Ann hangs up her bat. "How'd you get so good at that?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. It's not that hard. You just follow the ball and swing when it gets close." She sits down next to Akira.

"Yeah, I know _how_ to hit a baseball, Ann. I was asking how you got so good at doing it. I don't remember you playing it back in middle school."

"I didn't," she says, with a shake of her head. "I didn't play anything. I was so bad at sports growing up."

"Well, you got good at it somehow," Ryuji mutters.

"Aww," she says, and reaches over Akira's shoulder and ruffles the blonde boy's hair. "You're so sweet."

Ryuji's cheeks flush and he swats her hand away. "Knock it off."

A faint little hiss escapes Morgana. "Anyway! Shouldn't we be talking about our next target?"

Akira slides his phone back into his pocket. "If we're going to pick some big-shot, we'll need to think about it some more. Let's agree to do some independent research, and meet back up with more ideas."

The other thieves nod.

#

"This one?" Haru asks.

"Enamored Orchid."

She nods, and points to another. "This one?"

"Justice Jasmine."

"Very good," she replies. Her finger drifts over the shelf of flowers and she hums a little tune to herself. "Oh, how about this one?"

Akira shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest. "Please. That's a Gold Gerbera. Piece of cake."

"You know," Morgana purrs from his spot on the shelf. "You don't sound nearly as cool as you think you do right now."

Haru nods, straightens her baseball cap, and fixes him with a bright smile. "Well done, Akira-kun! You've learned them all in such a short time. I'm impressed."

Her grin is a little too much for him, and Akira averts his gaze. "Uh, thanks."

Haru's smile soon grows tired and she lets out a little sigh and stares out at the small crowd out in the mall's main corridor. "It certainly is slow tonight."

Akira yawns and nods. "I know. It's nice to get a break now and then, but time sure is dragging." He pulls out one of the shop's small metallic chairs and takes a seat. Morgana leaps down from his spot and settles in Akira's lap. He idly strokes the cat's head, and Haru smiles down at the two of them.

"So," she says, after a few moments. "You never told me."

“Never told you what?”

“Did Mako-chan like her gift?”

Akira, for all his self-control, feels his face flush. "She, uh, appreciated the gesture."

Haru sucks in her lips in a small smile, and stares up at the ceiling. "That's all it was? A _gesture?_ "

"That's not-"

"Because it certainly seemed more than a _gesture_."

"You have to understand-"

"A _gesture_ is something small. I don't think sneaking into a classroom before school to hide a present in her desk would be a _gesture_ , Akira-kun."

"Haru, I-"

"She certainly seemed taken by the _gesture_."

Akira blinks. "Did she?"

Haru shrugs. "But I suppose, if it was only a _gesture_ , you wouldn't be too interested in her reaction."

She meets his eyes. They're narrowed. "You know," he says, tone flat. "You're kind of sadistic."

Haru blinks, and then they are both laughing. "I'm sorry," she says, once she catches her breath. "But she really did seem to like it. I didn't get a good look at it, not that I was trying to pry. But she put it in her bag and left the room. Her cheeks were redder than yours right now."

"I see," Akira says, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. "That's... good."

They spend a few moment in companionable silence, before Haru breaks it once more. "The other night, you seemed rather distracted, Akira-kun."

"Hmm?"

"When that woman showed up and ordered those red roses, you seemed a little flustered."

"Well," Akira says, clearing his throat. "It was an unusual request."

"I suppose," Haru says, and glances towards the front of the shop. Then, she leans in conspiratorially. "Want to know something interesting?"

"Uh, sure."

"I think that woman was involved with the Phantom Thieves," she whispers.

Akira and Morgana stiffen. "Crap," Morgana mewls.

Akira tries to settle into a more relaxed posture. "What would make you say that?" He asks, nonchalantly.

"You've seen the PhanSite, yes?" Haru asks.

Akira shrugs. "I've heard of it."

Haru pulls out her phone and flips to it. "Well, I was scrolling through it this afternoon..." She begins to relate the details of the woman's request, and the strange instructions the PhanSite's admin had privately emailed to her. 'Go to Rafflesia in the Shibuya Underground Mall. Wear red. Order eleven roses. Exactly eleven.' Sure, they had given her some additional instructions. They'd told her to go to a jewelry store and ask to see a specific necklace, to go to the music store and place a series of CDs in a specific order back onto the shelf. All of that to disguise who they really were, and where they were really watching her from.

But.

"And so, it looks like the Phantom Thieves actually managed to change his heart! Isn't that incredible?"

"Yeah," Akira says. "Amazing."

"We need to be more careful," Morgana says. "We were way too careless."

Akira nods. _It was stupid to use a place we frequent. Hell, a place I work!_ If someone ever got suspicious, all they had to do was follow the path the woman took through the mall, and they'd cross paths with him. Haru continues to chatter away, but Akira’s mind begins to backtrack. If they didn’t notice _this_ , had they missed something else?

#

Akira sips his tea, and looks at Mishima. “What’d you keep looking at the door for?” He asks.

Mishima glances back at the two boys. “Huh? What’d you mean?”

“Akira’s right,” Ryuji says, mouth half-filled with udon. “You’ve been staring at that door for, like, ten minutes now. You expectin’ someone else?”

“N-no. Well…”

Morgana squirms inside Akira’s bag. “He’s up to something.”

Akira’s eyes narrow. “What’s going on?” It’s not terribly late, but the dinner crowds have gone home. The diner is empty save for a few scattered couples and groups of friends. There’s enough music playing so that no conversations are heard, but Akira can’t help feeling that something is a little off.

Mishima glances back towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Yes!” He says, then raises his hand in the air.

Ryuji and Akira turn to look, and their eyes bulge. Nakanohara Natsuhiko stands in the diner’s doorway, spots them, and begins to walk over.

“What’s going on?” Ryuji asks, then turns to Mishima. “What the hell is going on?”

Akira’s hands clench. “What did you _do_?”

“What is it?” Morgana mewls. “What’s wrong, guys?”

Mishima pales. “I didn’t do anything, I figured-“ but then Nakanohara stands next to their table, and regards the three teenagers.

Morgana, from his little hole in Akira’s bag, cries, “Oh, crap!”

“May I, um, sit?” He asks.

“Sure,” Mishima says, and slides over.

“No,” both Ryuji and Akira says. Ryuji’s eyes narrow. “We don’t know who you are, man. So, like, get your own table.”

Nakanohara’s eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was told-“

“No, it’s fine,” Mishima says, and looks at the other two boys. “You guys are gonna want to hear him out.”

Morgana begins to moan, “Get him out of here!” But it is too late.

Nakanohara sits down. He wears a suit similar to the one the Phantoms had seem him wearing in Mementos. He sets a briefcase down on the ground alongside him. He dips his head. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?” Akira asks, already guessing where this conversation is going.

Nakanohara smiles. “For what you did. To me. For me. I _feel_ a lot better than I have in a while.”

“We don’t-“ Ryuji starts.

“You are members of the Phantom Thieves, yes?” Nakanohara asks. Mishima beams at the two of them. Ryuji and Akira glance at one another. They say nothing. “Right, of course. You wouldn’t want your identities known.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know what you did to me, but the night after I got that calling card, I just… felt different. I realized what I’d done to my ex-girlfriend, and I knew how horrible I’d been. I called her to tell her I was sorry. She didn’t forgive me, but I wasn’t expecting her to, and that’s fine. I went on the PhanSite, and saw what she’d written. I can’t believe I’d done something to scare her that much. I reached out to the admin, and here I am.”

“So,” Ryuji says. “The only reason you’re here is to thank us?”

“Ryuji!” Morgana growls. Akira shuts his eyes. _Goddammit._

Nakanohara smiles. “Well, no. I mean, I do want to thank you for changing my heart. But, there’s something else I want to talk about.”

“And what’s that?” Akira asks.

Nakanohara meets Akira’s eyes. “I’d like to request that you change someone’s heart.”

Ryuji scoffs, crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. “There’s a site for that, man. What’re you tellin’ us for?”

Nakanohara blinks. “Well, I did originally go to the site to make the request, but the admin-”

Mishima cuts him off. “The guy he wants to request is a _big deal_ , and I figured it’d be better if we kept it off the site for now. He’ll never see us coming that way.”

Akira turns his eyes to Mishima. _‘Us?’_

“This is _not_ how this is supposed to work,” Morgana growls.

“So, then,” Ryuji asks, with a shrug. “Who’s this big shot?”

Nakanohara pales a bit, swallows, and says, “Ichiryusai Madarame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember last week, when I only posted two chapters because of my finals, and you stupendous people were absolutely fantastic about it? Well, I figured I'd even things out! Happy Saturday!
> 
> Note: This DOESN'T mean next week's posting schedule will be affected. I've still got three chapters I'll be putting up, but - just a reminder - I will be going on an extended hiatus starting 9/11, that will continue to October.
> 
> Once again, thank you very much for reading Crimson! It means a great deal to me! I'll see you Monday!


	28. A Very Long Day Pt.1 - Damage Control

Akira turns the business card over in his hands.

"Geez," Ann says. She sits atop the roof's A/C unit, legs kicking idly, a frown on her face. "Dozens of kids?"

Ryuji nods, face in his phone, thumbs type, type, typing away. "That's what he said. This asshole takes em in, 'tutors' them, and then just plagiarizes their work. Then, they're back out on the street."

"That's horrible," she whispers.

"No kidding."

It is their first day back from school, lunchtime, and the day is overcast, muggy, and oppressive.

"But," Morgana says. "If all this is true, then Madarame is the perfect target."

Ryuji grins. "Totally. I can see why Mishima wanted to keep his name off the PhanSite." He holds up his phone. "He's like, a huge deal!"

Ann hops down and reads the text on his phone. "Wow. He's famous. I've never even heard of him."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "That's cause you got no class."

Ann smacks him on the back of his head. "Like you do?"

Akira clears his throat. "Apparently," he says, and the other two turn their attention to him. "Nakanohara didn't even know about the other victims." He holds up the business card. "He was approached by a reporter."

"Ichiko Ohya," Ryuji says, sounding the name out syllable by syllable. "Told us if we wanted to learn more, we should contact her."

Ann crosses her arms. "So, are we gonna call her?"

Morgana frowns. "We could, but what would we say? 'Hi, we're the Phantom Thieves, what do you know about Madarame?'"

"Well, what then?" Ann's eyes widen. "Hey, wait. Do we even know if Madarame _has_ a Palace?"

"Oh," Ryuji says, and swipes his fingers across his phone. "He's got a Palace. Check it out." He turns the screen back around so Ann can see.

Sure enough, within the Navigation app, are the words 'Ichiryusai Madarame,' and next to them, 'Match Found.'

"But we've got no idea what the other words are," Akira points out.

Ryuji shrugs. "Can't be that hard to figure out. We just gotta do a little diggin' is all."

"Which," Akira continues. "Would be where the reporter comes in."

"Okay," Ann replies. "But what will we say to her?"

Akira frowns, and spins the card around in his hand once more. "I'm working on that."

A throat clears. "Excuse me?"

Ann and Ryuji jump.

Mishima stands at the entrance to the roof. Again.

"Dammit, dude," Ryuji shouts. "Stop doing that!"

Mishima dips his head, and mumbles out an, "S-sorry."

"Did you need something?" Ann asks, settling.

"I asked him here," Akira says, and puts the business card back into his pocket. Morgana takes a spot in the chair next to him. "I wanted to talk to him about some stuff." He turns to look at Ryuji and Ann. "Do you guys mind if it's in private?"

Ann blinks, but Ryuji stands and stretches his arms overhead. "No sweat, bro. We'll leave you to it." He begins to leave, and when he passes Mishima, pats him on the shoulder with a smile. He calls out, "C'mon Ann," before he vanishes through the door and out of sight.

"Everything good?" Ann asks, before she follows.

Akira fixes her with a smile and nods. "Yep."

"O-okay," Ann replies, but gives each of the boys a look before she follows Ryuji out the door.

"What's up?" Mishima asks, once Ann is out the door.

Akira pulls his phone from his pocket and queues up the PhanSite. "I wanted to talk to you about this."

"Oh, okay," Mishima says, and brightens. "What about it?"

Akira forces a grin onto his face, and gives a small chuckle. "Honestly, I'm a little inept at this stuff. I was wondering how... safe, I guess would be the right word? Yeah, I want to know how safe the site is."

"Safe?"

Akira nods, and leans forward. "For you. You're the admin. How safe is the site? Is it secure? The police won't be able to hack into it, right? They won't be able to find out who you are?"

Mishima lets out a deep breath and slumps a bit forward. "Oh man, you had me freaked out a bit." He laughs. "But don't worry. The site is totally secure." He lists a series of terms. Some, Akira is only vaguely familiar with. Others, he’s never heard of.

Unregistered domain.

Anonymous email.

VPN.

Proxy servers.

Nodes.

Morgana purrs. "It sure seems like he knows what he's talking about."

 _Yeah,_ Akira thinks. _But how would I know? I don’t know the first thing about online security._ "Wow," Akira says, after Mishima’s little spiel stops. "You're really good at this stuff."

Mishima blushes and nods. "I guess so."

"How'd you learn about it?"

He shrugs. "I've been studying it since I was a little kid. The knowledge is out there, you just have to know how to apply it. I could show you if you wanted to learn."

Akira widens his grin. "I think I would."

"Cool," Mishima cries. He wears a big smile, and looks so genuine. Akira's guts churn.

"So, since you'll be teaching me all this stuff and all, mind giving me the admin password?"

Mishima blinks. "Huh?"

"Careful," Morgana whispers.

Akira raises his eyebrows. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"N-no," Mishima says, tripping over his words. "It's just, why would you need it?"

"So I can help you with the requests. There’s sure to be a lot more of them, now that the site has been proven to work. Oh," and Akira raises a finger as if he's just remembered something. "I wanted to talk about those too." He walks Mishima through what had happened with Haru at the flower shop, and the flaws now apparent in their plan. "It's too dangerous to be so upfront about everything. We don't want the police getting suspicious and investigating where I work, yeah?"

"Right," Mishima says, eyes wide. "Of course!"

"So, here's what I think we'll do.” He walks Mishima through his new process.

Anyone with a request, must post it on the PhanSite, but without the name of the intended target.

After selecting a request, a private message will be sent to the poster, and only then will the target’s name be revealed.

After the successful completion of the request, the original poster may make a follow-up post onto the PhanSite, but the details of any contact with the Phantom Thieves – messages, instructions, and whatnot – must be kept vague, and preferably, not mentioned at all.

 _Anyone_ who posts the name of the intended target on the public website, will have their request immediately rejected.

“This is all to protect everyone’s anonymity, obviously,” Akira says. “You understand.”

"Okay," Mishima says, eyes bright. "We can do that, definitely. I’ll update the posting rules today."

"Good," Akira stands and walks up to him. "Oh, and one more thing." He claps Mishima on the shoulder, leans in and says, "Don't ever pull what you did with Nakanohara, again. Ever."

Mishima pales. Nods. "G-got it."

Akira pats him on the shoulder, just like Ryuji did. "So," he says. "That password?"

Mishima leaves soon after, and Akira is left alone on the roof with Morgana.

"I thought," the cat says. "You said you weren't going to get mad."

"Couldn't help it." Akira shrugs. "I got what we needed."

Morgana casts a glance towards the door. "I know you're still sore about the whole, 'posting your info online' thing, but Mishima is on our side."

"Is he?" Akira whispers, and shakes his head. "It's not about him posting my stuff online, it's about the meeting last night. Nakanohara knows who we are."

Morgana bobs his head in a nod. "Okay, yeah, that was a big slip up on Mishima's part, but Nakanohara isn't got to tell anyone. We changed his heart!"

"And what if," Akira says, slowly. "He decides, one day, that he doesn't appreciate us doing that anymore? What if the police show up at his door and question him about us?"

"That won't-"

"Don't say, 'that won't happen,' because you don't know that it won't." Akira grits his teeth and begins to pace around the roof. "Just think about it, Morgana. Mishima knows who we are. Nakanohara knows who we are. Hell, Shiho, knows who we are." He turns and stares down at the cat. "We're supposed to keep our identities hidden, and we keep _not doing that_."

"Okay," Morgana says. "Okay, Akira, relax. So, what do you want to do?"

Akira sighs and stares at the rooftop. "We can't do anything about Nakanohara. Or, if we can, I don't know what it is yet. Shiho's... well, I'm not worried about Shiho." He shrugs. "But, Mishima? We need to limit his involvement. Fast."

"That's why you wanted the password?"

Akira nods. "The PhanSite is a good idea, but I don't like leaving Mishima in charge of it. Once he shows me how to work the thing, I'll figure out a way of locking him out."

"But won't he get mad about that?" Morgana asks.

"That's why I've got to figure out a way of doing it so that he thinks we're giving him _more_ responsibility."

"How're you gonna do that?"

Akira shrugs. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes with his fingers. "No idea. Yet."

Morgana trots up to Akira and rests a paw against his leg. "Don't you think you're being a little bit harsh? You said it yourself, Mishima is a victim too."

"Yeah, he is," Akira replies, scowling. "What he isn't, is our friend or ally. Not really. All he's trying to do is get in on our fad on the ground floor."

"And you're sure you're not just being paranoid?"

Akira returns his glasses to his face, kneels down, and plops a hand onto Morgana's head. "Mona," he says, as he rubs it. "If anything, I'm not being paranoid _enough_."

The cat meets his eyes, the nods. "Alright, I'll follow your lead. Just, be careful. If you're right, and you push Mishima too hard, he may end up spilling the beans on us, anyway."

"Right," Akira says, and straightens. "Right." He cracks his neck and shakes the snap out. "Should we get back to class?"

Morgana yawns and stretches out his legs. "Actually, I need to get some exercise in. Sleeping in your desk all day is making me fat."

Akira runs his eyes over the cat. "Could've fooled me, but okay. Meet you after school?"

"Sounds good," Morgana says, as he hops onto the roof's edge and drops to the sill below.

#

Principal Kobayakowa opens his office window and lets the outside breeze slide over his sweat-slick skin.

"Goddammit," he whispers, and turns back to his desk. He'd always been so careful with Kamoshida. The oaf had been easy to control, as his needs were simple. A few meaningless accolades, a handful of kind words, a girl here and there, and a blind eye had kept the man well within Kobayakowa's control. But then that _idiot_ had gone too far.

And now he had to bear the responsibility. "Phantom Thieves," he spits, and rereads the calling card that sits on his desk for the hundredth time. "Unbelievable."

The star of their school had only just begun to rise. Students were being accepted into elite colleges, which mean more funding, more publicity, more everything. Kobayakowa had been so close. Another year or two and the significance of Shujin would've truly skyrocketed, and Kobayakowa would've found himself secure in the halls of hallowed educators.

Now, Shujin would forever be tainted by the memory of Kamoshida. No longer would they be, 'Shujin: The Elite College Preparatory School.' Instead, they'd have to settle for, 'Shujin: The School with the Rapist.'

Kobayakowa can picture his superiors, shaking their heads in barely contained anger over his inability to control the situation. It would've been one thing had Kamoshida suffered a mental shutdown. Those were untraceable. But that he had been singled out, and confessed to his crimes? Damage control didn't begin to cover what Kobayakowa needed to accomplish.

His instructions had been simple. A list of names. _"Gather information."_

But sheep, as a means of obvious self-preservation, don't speak to wolves. So how does one find the wolf in sheep's clothing?

Send in another sheep.

There's a knock at his door.

"Come in," he says.

#

Makoto steps into the Principal's office and stands at attention before his desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Kobayakowa does not look well. Sweat peels from him like another skin. When he turns to her, his eyes are narrow and sharp. Distrustful, even.

"Niijima-san," he says, and nods his bulbous head. "I want to begin this conversation by saying a few things."

"Yes, sir."

He clears his throat and continues. "You are a remarkable student, and an excellent Student Council President. You are hard-working, diligent, and both the staff and your classmates respect you. If you continue down the path you presently tread upon, I have no doubt a shining future awaits you."

Makoto blinks. The Principal's lauding words were not what she was expecting. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting when she received the sudden call to come to the office, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Thank you, sir."

"So then, I want to ask you this directly. Are you a member of these so-called Phantom Thieves?"

Makoto's eyes widen. "What?"

"I am not hearing a denial."

Her words fall out of her in a stutter. "N-no! Of course I'm not!"

He stares at her for some time. Then he says, "Then let me ask you this, do you have any idea who the Phantom Thieves could be?"

 _Akira Kurusu, Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki_.

Her heart beats faster. Sweat pools within her hair, but does not yet slide down her face. She thinks of Akira. She thinks of his beaten face. She thinks of Kamoshida.

"No," she says. "I do not."

The Principal sighs and collapses back into his chair.

"May I ask, sir," she says. "Why you are asking me these things?"

Kobayakowa's eyes narrow as he looks up at her. "Do I honestly need to explain that? There is a strong possibility... no, it is extremely _likely_ that these Phantom Thieves are Shujin Academy students." Makoto opens her mouth but he continues before she can speak. "Really, now, Niijima-san. From someone with such high test scores, I would expect a little bit more deduction." He spreads his hands wide. "Who else but disgruntled Shujin students would have a grudge to bear against Kamoshida-sensei? Who else would be aware of the man's... problems?"

 _Problems?_ Makoto thinks. _He was a rapist!_ "Sir, he-"

He holds up a hand. "I am well aware of Kamoshida-sensei's misdeeds, Niijima-san. He confessed to them before me just as much as before you. What I cannot, however, condone, are students who think they can blackmail, manipulate, and otherwise extort teachers at this institution."

Makoto cannot believe what she is hearing. "Why would they, sir?" She asks. "They made their point, didn't they? They called out Kamoshida. They got him to confess. What else would they do?"

"So you mean to tell me that you have _not_ heard of this ‘PhanSite?’"

"The what?"

He shakes his head. "Honestly, perhaps you do not have your finger to the pulse of the student body as much as you might think. Look it up when you have time, I do not have the patience to educate you. The point is, the Phantom Thieves _are not done_." He reaches into his desk and withdraws a manila folder. "You say you are not one of them. I would prefer to believe that. However, as I cannot be sure, I am left with no real choice."

Makoto's heart smashes against her ribcage. "Sir?" She asks.

"You wish to have the full recommendation of this institution. With it, you would have a relatively easy time securing your position at any university you wish." He pauses, and Makoto feels the dread ink its way through her, tattooing itself on her organs. "If you wish to receive this recommendation, seek out, and find the Phantom Thieves."

 _This isn't real. This isn't happening. He can't do that!_ "Sir, you can't honestly-"

"What?" Kobayakowa cuts in. "I can't honestly, 'what?' Because if you're doubting my ability to do exactly what I'm outlining, then you are tragically mistaken." Makoto feels as if all the blood has drained from her body. "What's wrong, Niijima-san? Are you unwilling to squeal on your confederates?"

Something rises in her. "Sir, I am _not_ a Phantom Thief!"

He smiles. "Then I suggest you find out who is." He tosses the folder across his desk. It lands before Makoto and when she looks at him, he nods at it.

She reaches out a trembling hand, picks it up, and opens the flap.

Akira Kurusu's face stares out at her. It is his student record. Her throat goes dry. _This can't be happening_. There are more pages. She flips to the next page. Ryuji Sakamoto glowers out from his student picture. She turns the page. Ann Takamaki grins. Another page. Yuuki Mishima stares tentatively at the camera. Once more. Shiho Suzui wears a small smile.

"Suzui?" Makoto asks, then looks up at the Principal. "Sir, she was in a coma after her suicide attempt."

The Principal's eyes are hard and his tone suggests no further argument, when he asks, "And?"

She returns her eyes to the folder. There is one more page. She turns it, and stares at herself.

 _This is not happening_.

"Sir, I-"

"Akira Kurusu. A recent transfer student with a criminal record. Threatened with expulsion, by Kamoshida-sensei, a scant handful of days before his confession. Ryuji Sakamoto. A delinquent who physically assaulted Kamoshida-sensei last year. Also threatened with expulsion. Ann Takamaki. The target of Kamoshida-sensei's advances. Yuuki Mishima. Frequently abused at the hands of Kamoshida-sensei. Threatened with expulsion. Shiho Suzui. Victim." He says nothing more on Suzui. He says nothing about Makoto's presence in the file. "I suspect the students in that file of being the Phantom Thieves." He smiles. "I understand you've been tutoring one of them. That's good. Keep that up. It'll give you an in."

"Sir..."

_This isn't happening._

_This isn't happening._

_This isn't happening._

Makoto shuts her eyes. She breathes. In and out. In and out. _What would Sis do? What would Dad do?_ Her brain burns, and she settles on only one possible way out of this.

She opens her eyes.

"I understand, sir. I will investigate the Phantom Thieves."

Kobayakowa smiles. "Very good. That will be all. Keep me abreast of the situation."

From the corner of her eye, Makoto notices a black flash out the window, but when her gaze flicks towards it, whatever it is, is gone.

"Sir, I have one question," she says.

"What is it?"

"Did you know, about Kamoshida’s abuses?"

A scowl explodes its way across Kobayakowa's face and he lurches to his feet. "What kind of inane question is that, Niijima? I won't even dignify that with an answer! Need I remind you that _your_ name is on that list as well? If you want to continue down the path to success, then don't waste my time with foolish inquiries, and get to work!"

"Yes, sir," Makoto says, and forces herself to look cowed. To herself, she whispers, "That's all I wanted to know."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then get to class."

"Yes, sir." She turns and walks out the door. As she shuts it behind her, she thinks, _Piece of shit._

#

Akira walks the length of the alley, turns, and walks back to the group. He looks at each one, then turns and takes off down the alley once more.

"Akira," Ann says, when he does this again.

Akira turns back to them, looks down at Morgana and says, "You heard wrong."

"I didn't."

"You heard wrong."

"I'm telling you," the cat replies. "I didn't."

Ryuji's face is pale, and his feet tap out a rhythmic beat, even as he leans against the wall. "This is so bad. So freakin' bad."

"What did she say?" Akira asks.

"She said she'd investigate-"

"Word for word, Morgana," Akira cuts in. "Word for word."

The cat wilts a bit under Akira's gaze. "Don't yell at him, Akira," Ann says, a frown on her face.

Ryuji shakes his head. "This is so bad."

Morgana puffs himself up a bit, and says, "Makoto said, word for word, 'I will investigate the Phantom Thieves.'"

"And what did she say before that?"

"She asked why Shiho Suzui was on the list, since she had been in a coma."

"And before that?"

"I don't-"

"What did she say before that?" Akira shouts.

"Akira, stop it!" Ann says, walking up to him and grabbing his shoulders. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Akira's eyes find their way to hers. "She wouldn't do this." His voice is small, breathy. "She wouldn't. There's another reason."

Ann's hands tighten on his shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself. What, do you like her or something?" Akira says nothing, but whatever Ann sees on his face causes her eyes to widen. "Oh my god. You _do_."

Ryuji finally pushes himself off the wall. "Guys! What the hell are we talking about? That is so not the freakin' issue! _They have our names!_ "

"Ryuji's right," Morgana hisses. "Whatever Makoto's role is in this investigation is secondary to the fact that there _is_ an investigation!"

Ann steps away from Akira, a scowl on her face. "I'm sorry, Mona, but one more time, what did Kobayakowa say about us, exactly?"

The cat sighs and rolls his eyes. "He listed your names, one by one, starting with Akira, then Ryuji, then Lady Ann. He also suggested Mishima and Shiho as suspects."

"Oh my god," Ryuji mumbles. "Oh my god. Oh my god. How? How could they know it was us?"

"They don't _know_ it was us," Morgana says. "They suspect us. Strongly, apparently."

"What the hell is the difference?" Ryuji shouts.

"Calm down," Ann says.

"Like hell," Ryuji spits back. "Don't you get how bad this is?"

Akira turns from the group and takes a few steps away. "Of course, I do," Ann protests. Akira turns and puts his back to the brick wall. He looks down at the puddle of dirty water centered in the blacktop.

He slides down and drops his rear against the ground.

"Dude," Ryuji says, and steps around Ann. He kneels down next to Akira. "Are you okay? Come on, leader, this isn't the time to lose it."

"You are," Ann points out.

"I'm not the leader!"

Ann ignores him and asks, "What'd you want to do, Akira?"

He looks up at them, turns his eyes to them, but he doesn't see them, not really. All he can see is the white ceiling, mismatched with the dull ivory walls. All he can see is the cot where he'll sleep, and the huge door that locks him inside. All he can see is the box.

His phone vibrates. He pulls it from his pocket.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Apologies if this is a bad time. I was wondering if you'd like to have a study session today?_

He looks up at his friends.

"It's Makoto," he tells them. "She wants to have a study session today."

"She moves fast," Ann mutters.

"That's..." Morgana says, and trails off for a moment before continuing. "That's what the principal told her to do. He said it was her 'in' with you."

Akira looks at the cat. "Morgana," he says. "You misheard. Just, tell me you got it wrong. I won't even be mad. Please."

Morgana walks up to him, and rests one paw on Akira's leg. "I'm sorry, Akira. I didn't."

Akira looks at the cat for a while. Then he types his response.

 ** _AKIRA_** _: Can't today. Something came up. Sorry_.

He slides the phone back into this pocket. "Okay," he says, and puts his hands on his knees. "Okay. Okay. Okay." He looks over at Morgana. "I'm sorry Morgana, but one more time, what did Kobayakowa say, _exactly_?"

Morgana repeats himself again, slowly. He tells them how, as he had descended towards the ground, sill by sill, he had heard a commotion from an open window, and arrived in time to hear the Principal say to Makoto, '...find out who is.' Intrigued, Morgana had stayed hidden and listened, and had heard everything else as clear as day.

"Aw man," Ryuji says, and buries his head in his hands. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

Everything flies through his mind at once. _Madarame. Makoto. Ohya. The Principal. Igor. They know. I'll get kicked out of school. Mementos. I'll be put back in jail. Nakanohara Natsuhiko. They know. Mishima'll crack. I can't make it work. They know. I'm not like him. I'll screw up. It'll be a box. Another box. They know. They know. THEY KNOW_.

Only, they didn't know.

 _Think_.

They suspected.

 _Think_.

And if they only suspected, and didn't know...

 _THINK_.

Akira pushes himself to his feet. "We can't meet at the school anymore," he says. "On the roof. It's too obvious. Too easy to overhear. Hell, Mishima snuck up on us."

"Okay, but what're we-" Ann starts, but Akira holds up a hand.

"Not here." He looks down the alley towards Shujin's front gate. "Not anymore." He takes out his phone and dials a number he's yet to have reason to call.

It rings a few times, before someone picks up and says, "LeBlanc," into the receiver.

"Sakura-san, could I have some friends over?"

"... who is this?"

"Eh?" Akira asks, and holds the phone way from his ear. "It's Akira!"

"Oh," Sojiro replies. "No, the cafe is still open."

"Please?" Akira asks. "I'll take them upstairs, we'll be quiet, I promise."

"Like that matters," Sojiro replies, and then lets out a long, sigh. "Well, alright. But I don't want them here after I close up. You may live in the attic, but it's my shop, not your playhouse."

"Understood, thank you, Sakura-san."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The line goes dead.

Akira pushes his glasses up to his forehead and rubs his eyes with his finger and thumb, and returns his phone to his pocket with his other hand. "Okay. Let's go to LeBlanc. We'll talk more there."

"Right," Ryuji says, nodding. "Let's move."

"Hold it," Akira says, as Ryuji bends down to pick up his bag. "We should take separate paths."

"Huh? Why?"

Akira shrugs. "If they suspect us, and see us walking as a single group, they'll get even more suspicious."

"Wait," Ann replies, her brows coming together in concentration. "Wouldn't it be even _more_ suspicious if we took different routes to the same place, though? And that's _if_ we're being followed."

"Oh, crap!" Ryuji shouts and turns back to the alley's entrance. " _Are_ we being followed?"

Morgana hisses and his tail sticks straight up in the air. "All of you, relax. Look, this is what we'll do. Lady Ann, you take Ryuji and head to LeBlanc, but first, stop in Shibuya and buy something at the mall."

Ann rolls her eyes. "Right. Take Ryuji shopping, that won't look suspicious _at all_."

Morgana shakes his head. "As much as it pains me to say this, pretend it's a date or something. Akira and I will go straight to LeBlanc. That way, if we are being followed, you can..."

Akira isn't listening. He doubts anyone is following them. Yet. He just wants his thoughts to himself for a few minutes, even an hour. He needs to plan. He needs to find a way out.

 _There's always a way out_. Rokuro's words beat through his skull like a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are kicking up a notch! Sorry for the late posting, it's Labor Day, so I stayed up all night and didn't wake up until 11.
> 
> Just a reminder, this is the last week I'll be posting until my extended. I suspect I'll be back in October, but if anything changes, I'll be sure to let you all know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	29. A Very Long Day Pt. 2 - Witnessing and Witnesses

"Come on!" Ann says, fists on her hips. "God, you're taking forever!"

"Can you blame me?" Ryuji asks, peering over his shoulder. "I'm freakin' out, here."

They walk down the street towards the Aoyoma-Itchome train station. Akira had boarded a train some fifteen minutes earlier, but now the two of them were supposed to hop on a train, and speed off to their 'date.' "This whole plan is so dumb," Ann grumbles, and glares as Ryuji ducks behind a corner and peers back out. "Oh my god! Stop already!"

"But what if they _are_ following us?"

"Then you're just going to tip them off by acting like that."

Ryuji's eyes widen as he turns back to Ann. "Oh, crap. You're totally right!"

Ann shakes her head. They don't even know who 'they' are. The more she thinks about it, the weirder the whole thing seems. If it's the police, why would they turn to the Principal of Shujin to investigate them? And for that matter, why would the Principal ask Makoto Niijima to assist?

Ryuji begins to march down the street, head still, hands flat at his sides, the very image of someone up to no good and trying desperately not to show it.

"I can't even with this," Ann sighs, reaches out, grabs Ryuji's arm and begins to drag him towards the tunnel's entrance.

"H-hey!" Ryuji shouts, and tries to pull from her grasp.

"No," Ann says. "No more delays. We're going on this dumb fake date whether you like it or not!"

"It's not that," Ryuji says, and yanks his arm free from her hands. Ann turns back to him and sees him staring down an alley. His eyes narrow. "It's _that_." She looks in the direction he is, and frowns.

There is a heavyset boy on the ground. He wears a Shujin uniform. Over him stands another boy, also wearing a Shujin uniform. It is very clear what is happening, but before her brain can catch up to her instincts, Ryuji is barreling down the alley with a shout of, "Knock it off!"

The kid, whom Ann recognizes as second year Daisuke Takanashi, turns towards the noise, and grimaces. Ann follows Ryuji into the alley, a scowl writing itself across her face.

"What're you doin' to him?" Ryuji asks, when he stops alongside them.

Takanashi rolls his eyes. "Oh, piss off, Sakamoto. This is between us." He turns his gaze down to the boy on the ground. "Right, piggy?"

Guilt fills Ann as she realizes she doesn't know the boy on the ground. The pins on his shirt collar identify him as a second year too, but the name is a total blank to her. The boy's eyes never venture higher than anyone's knees. "Y-yeah," he mumbles.

"Like hell," Ryuji counters, and steps between the fallen boy and Takanashi, who steps back. "I saw you knock him down."

"It's his fault. I asked him, nicely, I might add, for the answers to a test he had a period ahead of me. The idiot gave me the wrong ones!"

"B-but," the boy protests. "I told you I'm not very good at history! I warned you yesterday!"

"Then you should've cheated off someone near you, and _then_ given me the answers, fatass!"

The boy on the ground shudders.

"Stop it," Ann says, finally finding her voice. "Don't talk to him like that."

Takanashi look at her. "Takamaki? Seriously? What're you doing here with this loser?"

Ann's eyes narrow. "We're on a date."

Takanashi blinks. Ryuji reddens.

"Really?" The bully asks.

"Yep," Ryuji bumbles out. "We are on a date. That is definitely what is happening right now."

Ann shuts her eyes and sighs at Ryuji's awful acting. _And I thought I was bad_.

"Wow," Takanashi says. "You sure are easy, Takamaki."

Ann opens her mouth to retort, but then something _happens_. One minute, Takanashi is leering at her, and the next he is up against the alley's wall, his uniform's lapels wrapped in the fists of Ryuji, who wears a... well, the best word to describe his face is 'snarl.'

"Say that again," Ryuji says, his voice low. "Please."

"Ryuji," Ann says, because she cannot think of anything else to say.

He looks back at her, his expression softens, and he lets the boy go. "Get lost, Takanashi."

The bully dusts himself off, and straightens. "Yeah, whatever, man. You're all bark."

"Keep talking. Seriously."

The kid shrugs and starts to walk off. "We'll settle up later, Piggy," he calls, and gives a lazy wave before he's down the alley and gone.

Ryuji sighs and turns to the still prone boy. "You okay, Maehara?" He asks, and offers a hand.

"Huh?" The boy asks, blinking. Then, he hesitantly reaches out his hand and takes Ryuji's. "Y-yeah. Thanks."

"Is he really forcing you to give him the answers?" Ann asks.

Once Maehara is standing, he seems to shrivel up. "Well, it's not like I mind it," he says with a shrug. "But, I did tell him that I suck at history." He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" Ryuji insists. "That jerk is totally using you."

"I know," Maehara says. "But, we used to be friends, when we were kids. He's not really that smart, and he stinks at studying. I guess I figured I could help him out, and then..." He sighs. "Well, whatever. I appreciate what you did Sakamoto, you too Takamaki, but nothing's going to change. Unless the Phantom Thieves change it."

"Huh?" Both Ryuji and Ann asks at the same time.

Maehara perks up, glances past them down the alley and steps a few feet closer to them. "Check it out," he says, pulling out phone. "Have you guys heard about the PhanSite?"

"Um," Ann says.

"Yeah," Ryuji says. She shoots him a look. He shrugs.

"Well," Maehara continues, oblivious. "I totally put in a request for the Phantom Thieves to change Takanashi's heart." His fingers fly over his screen and then he turns it towards them.

"Dear Phantom Thieves," Ann reads. "My old friend Daisuke Takanashi is bullying me. He's forcing me to give him money and to give him the answers for tests. He's not a bad guy, not really, but I don't know how to get him back to way he was. Please, Phantom Thieves, I know you guys are probably more concerned with jerks like Kamoshida, but it'd be great if you could help change his heart. Your fan, Minoru Maehara."

When she finishes, all three are quiet. Maehara stands there, pink faced, eyes on the ground. He retracts his phone and sticks it back into his pocket. "A-anyway, thanks for sticking up for me guys, I should get going." He shakes his head. "Man, Takanashi's really gonna give it to me tomorrow." He nods once more and slides past the two, and begins to speed walk out of the alley.

"Hey, Maehara!" Ryuji calls out. The kid turns. Ann's eyes widen as she opens her mouth to cut him off, but Ryuji barrels onward. "Don't worry, dude. The Phantom Thieves will definitely change Takanashi's heart."

Maehara blinks, then smiles. "I sure hope so!" He waves goodbye, and resumes his walk.

Ann groans and begins to say, "Ryuji, what're you-" but he cuts her off.

"I know what you're gonna say, Ann." He looks at her then, a small smile on his face. "But I also know you're thinking the same thing as me."

Ann stares at him, then sighs. "Let's go."

"Some date, huh?" Ryuji asks, then reddens, before chuckling and looking down the alley. The two make their way back to the street.

"Hey, Ryuji?" Ann asks.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sticking up for me," she says, eyes on the ground. "When Takanashi said-"

"Pssh," Ryuji replies, blowing a raspberry. "You don't have to thank me for that. That douche was asking for it."

Ann looks at the Ryuji, but the blonde boy, whether intentional or oblivious, keeps staring ahead. She smiles, and keeps walking alongside him.

#

_You're gonna miss something._

_Shut up._

_You're gonna miss something._

_Shut up._

_You're gonna miss something._

_SHUT UP._

Akira sits at LeBlanc's bar, his eyes directed down at the varnished wood counter, but his mind is a million miles away. In his head, he runs through, again and again, every avenue and obstacle and option he can think of.

 _There's always a way out_.

 _You're gonna miss something_ , his brain shouts back at him, in a sing-song voice.

A single mug of coffee sits next to his hands. He does not remember where Sojiro put it there. Morgana is out, 'patrolling the neighborhood, looking for suspicious characters,' and it is just as well. The cat had chattered incessantly on the train, and Akira needs the privacy of his own thoughts right now.

 _They don't know. They suspect. They can't prove anything because it was all in the Metaverse._ Except, it wasn't _all_ in the Metaverse. Akira had warned Kamoshida, after all. _"We're coming for you, Your Majesty."_

 _Stupid. Stupid. STUPID_.

He can feel Sojiro's eyes on him, but the man stands at the far end of the bar, drying mugs. Akira is the only other person in LeBlanc.

"I thought you were bringing friends," Sojiro calls down.

"They're on a date," Akira mumbles. "They'll be here soon."

Sojiro cracks a smile. "You're gonna third wheel? Sad."

Akira doesn't reply. Sojiro's grin fades.

The door chimes. Sojiro's face falls further. Akira waits to hear the voices of Ann and Ryuji, but instead, he only hears a voice, feminine and touched with authority. "Good afternoon, Sakura-san."

 _Another of Sojiro's 'customers,'_ he thinks, and returns his attention to his own situation.

_Makoto. She's investigating me. That... No. Ignore that. Unimportant right now. What do I do? I could continue the study sessions. Feed her false information. She trusts me. Doesn't she?_

"Good to see you," Sojiro says in a tone that indicates it is anything but good to see her. "Don't suppose you just came for a cup of coffee?"

 _You're gonna miss something_.

"I'd like to speak about-"

"Over here," Sojiro says, and nods towards the far end of the bar. "Please."

Akira hears the clicking sound of footsteps pass him from behind, and the noise tickles his memory, but he can't afford to pay _that_ any attention right now.

_Why would they send Makoto to investigate us? Who even are 'they?' The police? If it's the police, why did they involve the Principal? How did they even know about us? Why would they suspect Shiho?_

From down the length of the bar, Akira hears the faint echoes of angry whispers.

Why _would_ they suspect Shiho? She was in a coma. Was it because of her connection to Ann? Or do the people investigating them know more than they're letting on?

_Is it anyone other than the Principal? It wouldn't be hard for him to find out who had challenged Kamoshida. But if it's not the Principal... Can we afford to think like that?_

_You're gonna miss something._

_Shut up! Then there's Mishima. He knows. What if the site isn't as secure as he thinks it is? Fuck! What if Nakanohara does decide he doesn't appreciate that we just went ahead and changed his heart? What if he blabs about us? Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!_

The sound of something heavy being set on the bar bounces its way down to him, and he blinks, then shakes his head clear. The whispers grow more intense.

_Should we stop? For a while, at least? Dammit, but if we stop, then won't it be suspicious that the Phantom Thieves stopped right after we started being investigated? But, so what? How would they prove we found out? They can't ask Morgana. He's a cat. What would they even ask him if they suspected? Even if they could confirm his presence at Kobayakowa's window, how would they prove it conveyed information to us?_

_You're gonna miss something._

_Shut up! They could make something up. Would it even matter? Why would they even wait to gather evidence? Why wouldn't they just arrest us now? They did it me before. Built a case on lies. They could just say the same thing! They could take our phones! They could check our text messages! Oh, fuck! Our text messages!_ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through the conversations he's had with Ryuji and Ann. Damning message after damning message. He begins to delete them, then realizes he has no idea if these are backed up anywhere. Does he need to reformat his phone? How would he do that? If he searched for 'How to reformat phone' online, was that traceable?

"...not gonna order anything, I've got nothing else to say," Akira hears Sojiro say, a touch of finality in his voice.

 _What if we just stop? Just quit?_ But if they did that, Morgana would never recover his memories. Would he be okay with that? _Would I be okay with that?_

 _You missed something_.

The thought flutters through his mind with no more intensity than a light breeze, but it is enough to bring him back to himself.

Someone is speaking to him. "...cuse me?"

He straightens and turns his head.

There is a woman standing alongside him. She is tall, and perhaps in her mid-twenties. She looks to be around Kawakami-sensei's age. Her outfit is a stern black business suit over a black turtleneck. Her hair is tinged toward gray and her eyes are a deep brown Akira almost mistakes as red.

These scrutinize him, but he can't mistake a dullness shot through them, an exhaustion. Though her makeup is applied with precision, Akira can see the faint hints of dark circles beneath her sockets.

"Is that a Shujin Academy uniform?" She asks. Her voice is direct, authoritative.

"Y-yes," Akira says, before he can gather his thoughts.

She nods, a single, solid dip of her head. "I thought so. What would bring a Shujin student out to this place?" There is a look to her that suggests she will not accept silence as a response. Akira can almost feel himself wilt beneath it. He glances back towards the far end of the bar. Sojiro is out of sight, but Akira can hear the sink in the small kitchen running, and the familiar sound of dishes being done.

"I live here," he says. _What am I doing? Who even is this person? Stop talking!_

She blinks. "I was unaware Sojiro had taken in..." She pauses, shakes her head. "I suppose it's been some time since I visited the file."

_The file?_

The woman's attention refocuses on Akira. "Well, I suppose your living here would explain your presence. Is Sojiro your uncle?"

Akira considers staying silent, but under her gaze, what can he do? "N-no." _Change the subject! Change the subject!_ He clears his throat before the woman can continue her inquiry. "How do you know about Shujin?"

"Hm?" She asks, then waves the question away. "Oh, my younger sister goes there."

Akira nods, and makes an effort to turn back to his coffee. "Maybe I've seen her."

"I would hope so," the woman says. "She's the Student Council President. Makoto Niijima."

Akira's eyes snap back to hers. He sees it now. The red tint in her eyes. _This is Makoto's sister? This is Makoto's sister_. And here she is. In LeBlanc.

He starts to laugh. It does not begin as a laugh, more of a chuckle. But then it grows until the smile splits his face wide, and the sound belts out of him uncontrollably.

Her eyes narrow. "What's so funny?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, when he can. "It's nothing."

The woman stares at him, a newfound intensity in her eyes. Akira's laughter diminishes but does not die. He breaks his gaze with her and returns to his coffee. "I suppose," Makoto's sister says after a long pause. "I'll be going then."

She turns and begins to walk towards the door. Akira hears the _click-click-click_ of her shoes and recalls the same sound from the courtyard's alcove. It is the sound of a Niijima on the march. Most likely, an angry Niijima.

Before his brain realizes what his mouth is doing, he calls out, "Tell Makoto I say hi."

The footsteps stop. He does not hear the chime of the door.

When she speaks, it is the sound of shattering ice. "And why would I do that?"

Somehow, the already low lights in the cafe dim a bit closer to total darkness.

 _Click. Click. Click_.

Akira is not laughing now.

 _Click. Click. Click_.

He feels the elder Niijima's presence grow behind him. _What was the answer to that question Inui-sensei asked us today? The one about the sisters that could turn you to stone if you looked at them?_

He has never wanted to _not_ turn around so badly in his whole life, but he does.

 _Oh, that's right_ , he thinks, when he sees her eyes. _Gorgon_.

"Tell her you say hi?" She asks. The length of a heartbeat passes. "What is your name?"

Akira's mouth creaks open. "I didn't-"

"Don't dodge the question. What is your name?"

"I-"

"I can find it just as easily on my own end, using my own resources, but that would waste my time and I promise you, young man, I am not someone whose time you want to waste."

"Akira Kurusu." His name topples from his lips but before he can even regret it, she presses onward.

"And what is the nature of your relationship with my sister?"

"Relationship?"

"Judging by the uniform, you're a second year. Yet, you refer to her as 'Makoto' and not 'Niijima-senpai. That indicates some degree of familiarity. Am I wrong?"

Her glare is a supernova, a blizzard, a sandstorm, a tidal wave. A very small, very dim, part of himself realizes his brain has completely shut off. "S-she asked-"

"She _asked_ you to call her that? I find that highly unlikely. Perhaps I should rephrase my question. What are your designs upon my sister?"

His mouth is full of sawdust, and his jaw works uselessly.

"Answer me!"

"She tutors me!" Akira blurts.

The woman blinks. "She tutors you?"

"Yes! She meets with me in the library after school sometimes to help me with my homework. The teachers asked her to."

 _They also asked her to investigate me and my connection to the Phantom Thieves_. He keeps this part, thankfully, to himself.

"How long has this been going on?" The woman asks.

"Hey!" Comes Sojiro's voice from down the bar. Akira turns and sees the older man approach, wiping a towel over his hands. "What're you grilling him for?"

"This doesn't concern you," the woman retorts, her words sharp and biting. "I'm inquiring into your ward's relationship with my younger sister."

"Relationship?" Sojiro asks, and looks at Akira. "You're dating someone?"

"N-no!" Akira blurts out. He feels the older Niijima's eyes burn a hole in his back. "She just tutors me."

Sojiro shrugs, and looks back at the woman. "First I'm hearing about it."

Akira can hear the smile in the woman's voice when she says, "So, he's kept a secret from you. How fitting, considering I doubt he knows about-"

"Not _another_ word," Sojiro barks, and Akira flinches in his seat. A storm crosses over the older man's face. "I've been exceedingly polite towards you, Sae. But it's time for you to leave. Now."

"Very well," the woman, Sae, says. Before she turns, she steps even closer to Akira, and her shadow eclipsed his own on the bar. In a tone that brokers no argument, she says, "Stay away from Makoto."

Then she turns and walks out the door.

Sojiro shakes his head. "That woman..." He mumbles.

"What was that all about?"

"Mind your business," Sojiro snaps. Akira shuts his mouth. The older man sighs rubs the back of his neck. "Do yourself a favor, kid. If you are interested in that one's sister, lose that interest. Fast."

Akira stares into his coffee, now cold. "She kind of reminds me of her sister, actually," Akira says. "They're both _intense_."

Except ath Akira remembers enjoying the mix bag of emotions that rollercoastered its way through him when Makoto acted like that. But this one? Nothing but dread.

"Yeah, well, she'd have to be, for her line of work." Sojiro snatches up the rag and starts to march back towards the kitchen.

"What does she do?" Akira calls after him.

"She's a Public Prosecutor," Sojiro says, before he turns the corner.

Akira lowers his head until it lays upon the countertop. "Of course she is."

#

"You didn't listen."

Akira lifts his head off LeBlanc's countertop. Only, it is not LeBlanc's countertop. It is the cold steel table of the interrogation room, over which Sae's gaze burrows into him.

"What?" Akira asks.

Sae sighs. "Whatever else you think about me, Kurusu, know that I have a very good memory. I remember that conversation."

Akira chances a smile. "I wouldn't call it much of a conversation, Niijima-san."

Sae's eyes narrow, but the edges of her lips twitch up for the barest of seconds.

 _Yes!_ Akira thinks.

Then her gaze becomes cold once more. "You didn't listen, though. I told you to stay away from her."

"You did," Akira says, nodding. For a moment, he lets himself forget the present. He lets his memory drift back to those afternoons in the library. To the streets of Shibuya. To the booths of LeBlanc.

"Makoto didn't let me," he says, with a shrug. "She's stubborn."

Sae shuts her eyes. "Yes, she is." Then, she reopens the manila file and withdraws a sheet of paper. "But that's enough about that. So, you successfully changed Suguru Kamoshida's heart. You were confident in your abilities and chose a more high-profile target."

Akira spits out a small laugh.

"What's so funny?" Sae asks.

"I wouldn't say I was _confident_ in my abilities," Akira replies.

"How would you describe your disposition at the time?"

"Terrified."

Sae blinks, and somehow her frown intensifies. "I see." She sets the sheet of paper on the table and slides it towards him. "Well, terrified you may have been, but you still continued to operate as a Phantom Thief." He taps the photo of Ichiryusai Madarame. "Tell me about this man."

Akira leans back in his chair and lets out a whistle. "That guy was a real piece of work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No holiday today, just pure chaos! Thanks for reading, and if I haven't gotten to your comment/review yet, I will as soon as I've got the time.


	30. A Very Long Day Pt.3 - The People Close to Us

The door to LeBlanc chimes. Akira sits up and turns. Ryuji and Ann step inside, with Morgana bundled up in the latter's arms.

"Welcome to-" Sojiro starts, then frowns once he takes the two in. "You must be Akira's friends."

"Yep," Ryuji says.

Ann shakes her head and bows. "Thank you for having us!"

Ryuji dips his head as well. "Uh, right. Thanks."

The corners of Sojiro's lips curve up. "Well, welcome anyway. You guys going to head upstairs?"

"That's the plan," Akira says, standing. "Thanks, Sakura-san."

Sojiro waves Akira’s words away. "Just keep it down, we're still open."

"Right."

The two teens join him as he heads up the steps. "Wow, dude," Ryuji says, as they climb. " _This_ is where you live?"

"It is," Akira says, ascending the landing and gesturing to his room. "This is my room."

"Wow," Ann says, taking it in. "It's... big."

"It's a mess," Morgana says, hopping down from her arms. "I keep trying to get him to clean it, but he's lazy."

The four thieves descend into silence. Akira gestures to the couch and Ryuji and Ann seat themselves down. Akira, pulls the chair out of his desk and sits. Morgana hops up onto the desk itself, and rolls onto his side.

"So," Morgana says. "We need to figure out what we're going to do."

Ryuji opens his mouth and begins to say, "About that-" but Akira cuts him off.

"We need to stop," he says.

Everyone looks at him.

"At least for a while." He holds up his index finger and thumb, both separated by the smallest space. "We're _this_ close to getting caught. If the Principal knows our names, then he could give them to the police at any time. That's _if_ someone didn't already give them to him."

No one says anything until Morgana says, "You said you would help me get my memories back."

Akira nods. "We will." He looks at the cat. "I promise. But we need to be careful right now. We need to fade from everyone's minds."

"But if we do that," Morgana says. "Then we won't be able to penetrate Mementos any further. We need to be part of the public consciousness."

Akira removes his glasses, sets them on the desk alongside Morgana and rubs his eyes. "But there has to be another way, right? Another way we can get deeper into Mementos without having everyone know about the Phantom Thieves."

Morgana shakes his head. "No. There isn't."

"But-"

"Doesn't that settle it?" Ryuji asks. He leans forward on the couch. "We're gettin' Mona's memories back. That means we've got to keep being Phantom Thieves."

"I'm not saying that we should _stop_ being Phantom Thieves. I'm saying we should lay low."

"But we've got work to do," Ryuji says, barreling onward. He tells of their encounter with Takahashi and Maehara on their way to LeBlanc. "People are counting on us. We can't just leave them in the lurch."

Akira groans. "Guys, _come on_. If we change the heart of _another_ person at Shujin, it'll only confirm that we _are_ Shujin students." He looks back at the cat, and when he speaks, his words are harsh. "You're _sure_? You're one hundred percent _sure_ that there's no other way of getting deeper into Mementos besides becoming a household name?"

Morgana shakes his little head once more. "Not that I'm aware of."

Akira shrugs. “So, there could be, right?”

"This isn't Morgana's fault, Akira," Ann says, frowning. "And we all know the risks. We know it's dangerous, but we said we would do this. It's the right thing."

"I know that, but-"

"That's right," Ryuji cuts in. "We're the good guys in this, Akira. Just because things aren't looking too great right now, doesn't mean we should quit."

"It's not _quitting_ ," Akira says. "It's _caution_. And we don't know what we're up against. If we keep-"

Ann shakes her head. "Whatever it is, we'll beat it. We're in this for the long haul, Akira. Just like you."

"That's not-"

"We get it, Akira," Ryuji says, a smile on his face.

" _No, you don't!"_ Akira hisses, standing. Ryuji and Ann take a step back. Morgana cringes. "You _think_ you get it but you don't. You _really_ don't. You think that because you're doing the right thing, you'll get a good result. But it doesn't work like that! You do the right thing, and then the police come and you think, 'it doesn't matter, I did the right thing,' and they arrest you and you think, 'it doesn't matter, I did the right thing,' and then they bring you to that courtroom and you think, 'it'll be fine, I did the right thing,' and the judge says guilty and no one's there to stop it and they put you in a box and you say, 'I did the right thing,' but you're only saying it to yourself! No one cares!"

Ann and Ryuji are pale. "Dude," Ryuji starts, but Akira speaks over him.

"I want to do the right thing. I want to keep doing the right thing, but you've never been _there_. I was. And I keep going back there, in my head, and I try to think of a way out and move towards it, but I can't, because I keep fucking up, and everyone keeps fucking up. We want to be the Phantom Thieves, but Mishima knows, and Shiho knows, and Nakanohara knows, and the Principal knows, and Makoto's investigating us, and every time I take a _step_ it turns out I've just dropped into a bunch of shit and I don't know what to do and _no one is listening!_ " His voice cracks at last, and he stops speaking.

He looks at the two teens. Ryuji points to his own cheek.

Akira's hand drifts up and brushes just beneath his eye. It comes away wet. He spits out a laugh, and drops down on his bed. "I know it's the right thing to do, you guys." He takes a deep breath, but it turns into a sniffle. "That's never been the question. But you don't know what it's like. To save someone, to do the right thing, and still take the fall."

Ann's eyes drift towards the floorboards. Ryuji frowns, and stands up. "You're a lot smarter than me, man."

Akira blinks. "Okay."

"So let me just say one thing. 'It wasn't a mistake.'"

"Huh?"

"It wasn't a mistake."

"What're you talking about, Ryuji?"

Ryuji shakes his head. "That's what you said, man. Remember? That first day in Kamoshida's castle, when we were about to be executed? You said, 'It wasn't a mistake,' and then Arsene exploded out of you like a freakin' nuke!"

Akira nods and drops his gaze. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you?" Ryuji asks, glaring. "I don't know what your shadow or whatever said to you, but whatever it was got you real riled up, and your answer was, 'It wasn't a mistake.' So was it?"

Akira remembers the woman. Remembers the man. Remembers everything that happened after. "No, it wasn't," he says.

"Was Kamoshida a mistake?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not."

"And what about Nakanohara? Was it a mistake to change his heart? You saw what he was like in Mementos. He might've done something crazy if we hadn't stopped him. Was it a mistake to change his heart?"

"No, Ryuji, but-"

"But nothing, dude," Ryuji spits. He crosses his arms across his chest. "People need us."

"I know, but-"

"Morgana needs his memories back. Who's gonna help him if we don't? Madarame is abusing kids and stealin' their work. Who's gonna stop him if we don't? Maehara's gettin' bullied by Takanashi. Who's gonna stop him if we don't?" He pulls out his phone and brings up the PhanSite. "All these people are asking for our help, and now, once it gets hard, you want to 'lay low' and 'stop for a bit?'" He shakes his head. "That's bullshit dude. So, I'll ask you again, was it a mistake? Was it all a mistake?"

Akira brings his hands together, clasps them to each other as if doing so could anchor him to something he felt he could understand.

 _He doesn't get it_.

He looks at Ann.

 _She doesn't get it_.

Morgana.

 _Doesn't get it_.

But can he blame them? He tries not to let his disappointment show.

A voice dances in the back of his mind. _Is it such a difficult thing to talk about?_

And there it is.

Akira's mouth creaks open, and when he speaks his words are little more than whispers. "I need to tell you about my father."

#

Makoto lies on her bed, and stares at her phone. She flicks her thumb and the PhanSite scrolls. _I guess Principal Kobayakowa was right. The Phantom Thieves aren't done_. They had apparently succeeded in changing some stalker's heart during the Golden Week break.

Makoto hadn't heard or seen Akira during that time. _No alibi_. At least, as far as Makoto was concerned.

She shuts her eyes and blows out a long sigh. "What am I going to do?" She mutters.

Her stomach growls.

 _Food. That is what I'm going to do_.

She'd already eaten dinner, but it had been small and tasted flavorless. She ignores her protesting limbs and exhausted mind, and pushes herself to her feet. She trudges in her pajamas, out of her room and into the hall. When she turns into the dining room, a throat clears behind her.

Makoto jumps. Her sister sits in an armchair in their living room. Her eyes are leveled towards Makoto in a look the younger Niijima is very familiar with. _What did I do now?_

"Hey Sis," Makoto says, giving her a small smile. "I didn't know you were home. Want something to eat?" She begins to turn towards the kitchen.

"Akira Kurusu," Sae says.

Makoto's feet freeze, and she feels a flush spread through her whole body. "Huh?"

"I met him today," she says, and tilts her head to the side.

Makoto does not understand what is happening. She shakes her head and says, "Wait, what? You did? How?"

"I'm an acquaintance of the man who has taken him in."

_The man who has taken him in? What does that mean?_

"I stopped by his cafe today," Sae continues. "It's a small hole in the wall in Yongen-jaya. LeBlanc. I rarely see any customers there. Imagine my surprise, then, when I see a young man in a Shujin uniform, sitting at the bar. It would seem he lives in the attic."

_Akira... lives in an attic?_

"He told me to tell you, 'hi.'"

"Oh. Um-"

"What is the nature of your relationship with this young man?"

Makoto blinks. "Relationship?"

"He told me you tutor him. Are you aware of his record, Makoto?"

"Wait," Makoto says, shaking her head. "I do tutor and I know about his-"

"You know about his record?"

"Yes, but-"

Sae sighs and shakes her head. "You do not have time for this, Makoto. _Your_ studies are supposed to take priority. _Your_ work."

"The teachers asked me to help him."

"And you have. Time to cut the cord. You shouldn't be wasting what precious time you have on some delinquent boy."

"He's not a delinquent."

Sae reaches into her black bag, and withdraws a manila file. "That's not what his record says."

"You... you _have_ his record?”

"Did you think I wouldn't? Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out all the information I could on someone who apparently knows my little sister so well he refers to her by her _first name_ with no honorifics?"

Makoto sits down on one of their couches, across from Sae. "Sis, please. Calm down for a second and let me-"

"Read it," she says, and throws it onto their living room table. The edges of a few pages creep out from the confines. Sae nods towards it when Makoto makes no move. "Go on."

"No," Makoto says, and shakes her head.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't care what it says."

"He assaulted someone, Makoto!"

"I know that." Makoto's hands shake.

"You do not have time to waste on this boy."

"I'm not wasting time," Makoto whispers. "You don't... you don't know."

"What?" Sae asks, shrugging. "Tell me what I don't know, Makoto."

Makoto suddenly feels very cold, and shivers. "K-Kamoshida."

Sae's eyes narrow. "That bastard pervert who assaulted that girl?" She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "What's he got to do with Kurusu?"

"H-he..."

"What?" Sae demands.

"H-he..." And then Makoto is in that room again.

_“So why don't we talk about how exactly you can help me, help you.”_

And then he is coming towards her and he's wearing that smile and the fire alarm will ring but what if it didn't and she knows it only lasted a moment and she knows that nothing happened but she knows something _could've_ happened and in that long moment before the fire alarm went off she was so fucking scared and didn't know what to do.

And the tears come.

She wraps her arms around herself, hugs herself tight, and whispers, "He tried to..." and she can't say the word, but she does manage, "with me." She dips her head and short, wet sobs break from her and she doesn't want to be doing this because she's a Niijima and Dad never cried, even when he was scared, but she can't stop.

And as Sae watches her, realization spreads across her face. She pales. And then Sae stands and barrels her way across the room and drops down next to Makoto on the couch. She reaches out and takes Makoto's hands in her own and she rubs her thumbs across the backs of them like she used to when they were both much younger.

"Makoto," she whispers, and all the anger is gone. "Makoto, it's alright. Tell me what happened.”

And Makoto looks into her sister's eyes and sees that it _is_ her sister, her real sister, Sae Niijima, and not the one that's always around and she hates that it's taken this to bring her Big Sis back.

Sae lets go of one of Makoto's hands and pulls her into a hug. Makoto snuggles her face into her sister's shoulder and cries some more.

And cries.

And cries.

And then she tells her what happened.

She ends it with, "He pulled the fire alarm. He got me out of there." She looks down at the file, still unopened on the table. "So, I don't care what that says about him."

She remembers the Principal and his instructions. _God, was that only this afternoon?_ "Everyone thinks he's horrible, but he's not. Even the Principal thinks so. He wants me to _investigate_ him.”

"What?" Sae asks. "Why?"

"He thinks Kurusu might've had something to do with Kamoshida's confession. That he _made_ him do it, somehow."

Sae strokes Makoto's hair and lets out a _hmph_ noise. "Please. The boy I met today couldn't make anyone do anything."

Makoto rolls her eyes. "That's because he was talking to _you_. You're really scary sometimes.”

Sae shuts her eyes and a small little laugh escapes her lips. "I suppose I can be... a bit harsh, at times." Then, she refocuses. "Makoto, why didn't you say anything?"

Makoto doesn't answer for some time. "I wanted to be like Dad."

Sae stiffens. "Oh, Makoto."

Neither says anything for a time.

Then, Makoto asks, "What should I do?"

Sae sighs. "I am, obviously, happy that this young man protected you. But. He is still a criminal."

"Sis, I-"

"No, Makoto," Sae cuts in, but her voice is soft. The prosecutor has not returned just yet. "I need you to focus on what's important right now. I know that may not seem fair, but it's the hand life dealt us. Exams are coming up for you. We can talk about this once those are through, and you have some more breathing room. For now, focus on those." Makoto opens her mouth to speak, but Sae continues on. "And don't worry about the Principal. I'll take care of him."

"Wh-what are you going to do?"

"Have a friendly chat," she says.

They stay that way for a little longer, until Makoto realizes she is starving.

"No," Sae says when Makoto tells her she'll make something to eat. "I'll get it." And she stands and moves to the kitchen.

Makoto sits on the couch, feeling light and sleepy and hungry, but better than she has since...

Well, since Akira gave her his number.

She stares at the file. She doesn't care what Kobayakowa thinks. She doesn't care what anyone thinks. _I'm going to help_ , she thinks. _Somehow, I'm going to help_. First things first, she needs to find out if Akira actually _is_ a Phantom Thief. _He won't just tell me. I'll have to deduce it on my own._

She thinks of Sae, and the implication she had laid out just a few moments earlier. Makoto knows her sister, and while Sae may have become more sympathetic towards Akira, her message was clear. _Stay away from Akira Kurusu._

Makoto crosses her arms while Sae pulls some dishes from the fridge.

 _Like hell_.

#

The door to LeBlanc shuts behind them, and Ryuji stretches is arms over his head. " _Maaannnn_ , I'm beat. Can't believe how late it got."

Ann nods, frowning. "We talked about a lot of stuff."

"Yeah," Ryuji says, and holds out a fist. "But, hey! We got a plan!"

Ann smiles and bumps fists with him. "Nothing ever gets you down, does it?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Plenty does. Just not for long. C'mon let's get to the station."

They head down the alley towards the Yongen-jaya station, past the small, shuttered shops and few pedestrians stalking the night.

"Hey, Ryuji?" Ann asks.

"Yeah?"

"What Akira said, about his dad...?”

Ryuji shakes his head, and sticks his hands in his pockets. "Pretty messed up, huh?"

"Do you think it's true?"

Ryuji stops. Ann takes a few more steps before she realizes he's not walking alongside her anymore, and turns to face him. "What?" He asks, his voice heavy.

"It just seems so... _neat_."

Ryuji blinks. "Neat?" He shakes his head. "What's 'neat' about his dad leaving Akira and his mom? What's neat about his dad being a conman who tricked his mom into falling in love with him?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not saying it's not horrible, but didn't it seem a little odd?"

Instead of answering her, Ryuji spreads his hands in a shrug. "Are you gonna do this every time?"

Ann cocks her head. "Do what?"

" _This_. This whole, 'I wonder what Akira's really thinking,' thing. It's kinda shitty, not gonna lie."

"Shitty?" Ann asks, voice rising. "How is it shitty to worry about a friend?"

"Because it's like you don't believe anything he says. The night of the party, you did the same thing."

"Uh, hello, Earth to Ryuji! Akira _just_ told us that he definitely _wasn't_ okay the night of the party."

"Yeah, I'll cop to that, I didn't notice. But the whole reason he was freaked out about becomin' a Phantom Thief was because he didn't want to become a conman and liar like his old man. He _just_ told us what was wrong, and the second we get outside, you act like he's lying."

"I don't think he's lying!" Ann shouts, and shakes her head. "I don't know, maybe I'm reading too much into it. But there are definitely parts of that story that don't make sense."

"Seriously?"

"Yes! Like, if Akira hasn’t heard from his dad in years, why is he so concerned with becoming like him? How would he even know what his dad is like?”

"Huh?" Ryuji asks, brows knit together.

Ann lets out a frustrated groan. "I don't know, you've got me all flustered. I just can't tell if he's being serious or not."

"See? That's what I mean! He seems upset to you, and you question him. He admits that he was upset, and tells you why. _Then_ you question him again, about his reasons. When's it gonna stop, Ann?"

"I'm not doing it to give him a hard time," Ann replies, angry now. "I'm doing it make sure he's okay."

"But when's he gonna be okay, Ann? When you say so?"

"What?"

"Look man, you want his story about his dad to make sense, but you can't even tell me what you think is messed up about it. What'd you expect? That it would all be easy to understand? Shit like that isn’t." He lets his hands fall. "My dad left me and my mom, but not before he beat us up a bunch of times. Take it from me, Ann, nothing about this shit is easy to understand. Sometimes it's just a big effin’ mess and that's all it is."

He walks past her and starts heading to the train station.

"Ryuji," she says, and follows him. "Come on, I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories for you."

"I know," Ryuji says. "And I ain't sayin' you did. But I know what it's like to have a shit dad. It doesn't have to make sense. One way or another, you don't ever want to be like him.” He stops. “On television the other day, I saw a beer commercial. It didn’t even have any dads in it. It was just a bunch of guys, in a bar, talking to some girls. That was it. I’ve seen a million more just like them. But for some reason, it just made me so _mad_. All I could see was my dad and the beer he used to drink. It wasn’t even the same brand! Does any of that make sense? Because it doesn’t to me. But there it is.”

Ann stares at her feet, hands clasped behind her back. “Sorry, Ryuji.”

The blonde boy stares at her for a few moments, then shakes his head and lets out a groan. “And here I was, all amped at having a sick ass plan.” Then, he smiles at her. “Whatever, man. Let’s get going.”

Ann nods and starts to follow him. “Hey,” she says, as they near the station. “Let’s stop somewhere. For food. I feel bad.”

“For real?” Ryuji asks.

She nods. “Sure. My treat.” A grin spreads across his face. “What?”

Ryuji turns his attention from her and focuses on the sleeves of his uniform. "Two dates in one day, not bad."

Ann’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush. "Sh-shut up!"

#

Makoto shuts the door to her bedroom, crosses the floor and collapses into bed. Her eyes still feel puffy from the tears, but beyond that, she's just exhausted. She buries her face into her pillow, but doesn't shut her eyes.

There's one thing left to do.

She rolls onto her back, and accompanied by a sniffle, picks up her phone. She bites her lower lip, and begins to type.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: I understand my sister was at your residence today. I'm very sorry._

She doesn’t expect a response. Akira is probably furious with her right now, and she can’t blame him.

A minute after she sends the text, her phone vibrates.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: It's alright._

Makoto scowls and writes back.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: No. It isn't._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: She had no right to harass you like that in your own home. Or at all. I'm very sorry._

She stares at the screen, unwilling to put it away. A few dots appear on the screen. She holds her breath until the message arrives.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: I think she was just concerned about you. I'm a dangerous criminal after all, who calls you 'Makoto.'_

Makoto smiles, then frowns. She thinks of the file Sae had tossed onto their table. Her heart beating faster, she writes out a series of messages.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Do you think you could maybe tell me about that?_

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Sometime? Not tonight._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Obviously._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Only if you were okay with it._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Obviously._

She shakes her head. _God, I sound so stupid._

There’s no response for a time, then another vibration.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: It's not a fun story._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: I didn’t think it would be._

 ** _AKIRA_** _: Maybe one day_.

Makoto nods. It’s not a yes, but it isn’t a no either.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Okay._

Then something occurs to her.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Did my sister, by chance, say anything in particular?_

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: Like what?_

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: She's a bit bossy. So, anything that might've sounded like... orders?_

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: She told me to stay away from you._

She feels something rise up within her, and before she’s even realizing what she’s doing, she’s replied.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: No._

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: No?_

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Unacceptable._

She reads over the last few lines, and feels her cheeks redden. She types out a hasty message that sounds hollow, even to her.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: After all, there are the study sessions to consider._

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: Right. Obviously._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Why don't we agree to set a date for them? You check your schedule. I'll check mine._

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: Alright. Sounds good._

Makoto smiles. _Now how to wrap things up?_

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Wonderful. Smiley face._

His response takes a few seconds longer than she expects.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: You know, you don't have to write out 'Smiley face.' You can just type : and )._

Makoto stares at the phone, puzzled. Then she tries it.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: :)_

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Oh, I see! Thank you for correcting me._

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: No worries._

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself. Like how you just did._

Makoto feels the heat in her chest rising. A smile on her face, her eyes narrow, she types out her response.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Tell me something._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Is there a series of keystrokes that indicate a fist moving towards a face?_

“Got you,” she says to her phone.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: ;)_

“Huh?” Makoto asks.

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: I thought you said it's :)_

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: That was a wink, Makoto._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Oh._

Her eyes widen. “Oh,” she says.

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: It's been a really long day, we should get some sleep._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Right. Then I'll speak to you again tomorrow. About the study sessions._

 **_AKIRA_ ** _: Sounds good. Goodnight._

 **_MAKOTO_ ** _: Goodnight Akira._

Makoto smiles as she sets her phone down on her nightstand. This day has been trying for her, but she’s set in her task. _And_ she was looking forward to the next study session.

#

Akira sits in his room, and shows Morgana the phone. “This sendoff works,” he says.

The cat nods. “It does.” Then his eyes drift up to Akira’s face. “Are you okay? I know that must’ve been hard for you.”

Akira shrugs and sets his phone on the windowsill. “What’s hard about it? She’s investigating us. So, I’ll keep doing the flirty thing and toss her a few study sessions to alleviate suspicion. Easy.”

The cat frowns. “Yeah, but Akira, you _like_ her.”

Akira glares down at his friend. “That doesn’t matter anymore,” he says. “She’s _investigating_ us, Morgana. You heard it yourself.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing,” Akira replies, and lies down. “We should get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

“O-okay,” Morgana replies, and curls up next to him.

Akira shuts his eyes, but he can’t sleep. His thoughts turn to his lies, his many lies, throughout the day. He thinks of Mishima. He thinks of Sae. He thinks of Makoto. He thinks of Ann and Ryuji. _Ann didn’t buy everything I said about my dad._ Well, that was fine. He’d told the truth, or a fragment of it. The whole of it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that he do the job they’d given him.

He was the leader of the Phantom Thieves. If that meant he had to lie and cheat, so be it.

And in the back of his mind, he hears the voice of his father, smoky and sharp and with a humorous lilt to it. _There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it, son?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2+ months.  
> 30 Chapters.  
> 100K words.  
> It's hard to believe. To be honest, when I started writing Crimson, I figured each month would approximate at 40-50K words. And yet, here we are, at the end of May 6th, with twice that. Lol, perhaps that speaks to my poor plotting.
> 
> With this chapter, I take my leave. I'll be getting married next Saturday, and then it's off to Akira's adopted home for our honeymoon. Provided I survive, I will be back in October. When, exactly? Honestly, I'm not 100% sure, as I've also just started my capstone project for Grad School. (My Professor is PISSED that I'm missing three weeks, lol.) I'll probably drop a line in the comments over at Ao3 (this is directed to everyone at FF.net) stating when I'll be back, and if you comment or leave a review, I'll do my best to reply.
> 
> Thank you, so goddamn much for reading Crimson. Thank you for reading it, talking about it, reviewing it, liking it, favorite-ing it, and binge-ing it. It means a lot more to me than I could ever say.
> 
> You people are simply the best. I'll see you in October!


	31. Requests and Orders

5/7

Akira's sleep is troubled, but remains free of any Velvet visitors. He wakes to the dawn of an ugly day. Overcast skies the color of pencil lead. Sirens in the distance. He props himself up on his elbows, snatches his phone from its spot on the sill, and checks for any messages.

There are none.

Morgana, curled alongside him, stirs. The cat's tiny eyes open and squint in the muddy sunlight.  He rises, stretches, and yawns. "Morning.”

"Hey," Akira replies. The two sit in silence. The siren grows, bit by bit, louder and louder. Just as Akira feels his chest begin to seize, the sound passes and recedes into the distance.

He waits for a moment, until it fades. Then, looking at his friend, he says, "Alright, let's do this."

#

Kawakami yawns.

"I trust," Principal Kobayakowa says, "that I am not _boring_ you, Kawakami-sensei."

"I'm sorry, sir," she blurts out. "It was-" She is about to say, 'a long night,' but wisely snaps her mouth shut before the words escape. "I'm sorry, sir," she repeats.

Kobayakowa nods and continues to lurch his way forward. Kawakami follows him a half-step or so behind, a respectful distance. They stroll the early morning halls of Shujin. The only students present are those belonging to clubs.

Her whole body feels sluggish. It really had been a long night. _And it's shaping up to be a long day too._

"You were saying?" The Principal prods.

"Yes. Ann Takamaki," Kawakami says. "There really isn't much to tell, sir. She's a decent enough student. She excels in English.”

"And her relationships?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

He glares over his fat shoulder and spits, "Her _relationships_ , Kawakami-sensei. I'm asking how well she gets along with her fellow _classmates_."

Kawakami frowns but averts her gaze. "Well, her best friend is Shiho Suzui. And, thanks to Kamoshida's rumors, she doesn't have that many other friends."

"What about Akira Kurusu?"

Kawakami blinks. "Sir, if I may ask, why are you asking me about her? Has she done something wrong?"

"I am not in a position in which I have to address your questions, Kawakami-sensei. Do answer mine."

_Jackass_. "She seems to get along well with him. I've seen her leave school grounds with him a few times."

"Do you think they are in a romantic relationship?"

"Not to my knowledge. But I don't see them outside of school."

Kobayakowa nods. "Of course, of course."

They round the hall. All Kawakami wants to do is retreat to the faculty office where she can drop her head and grab a few winks before the day officially begins. _Why the hell is he asking me about her?_

The Principal stiffens and halts. Outside his office stands a stern-looking young woman. She wears a jet black business suit and holds a shoulder bag in white knuckled hands. When her eyes pass over the two of them, they narrow, and her lips slide into a scowl.

_Whoa. This chick is pissed._

The Principal recovers and opens his mouth to say, "May I-"

"Principal Kobayakowa?" She asks, cutting him off.

"Yes."

She tilts her head up and glares down at the two of them. "My name is Sae Niijima. We will talk in your office."

_Sae Niijima? Like, Makoto Niijima?_ When Kawakami looks again, she can definitely see the resemblance. The woman doesn't look like she'd be formidable, but her tone and body language leaves no room for doubt. Makoto Niijima can be docile at times, but Kawakami has seen her mad on a handful of occasions, and did not envy those students the anger was directed at.

"I'm afraid I'm quite busy at the moment," Kobayakowa replies, and to Kawakami, it sounds like he's struggling to get the words out. When she glances at his face, it is a shade redder than normal. "What is this in regards to?"

Sae Niijima does not move. "It's regarding the blackmail you are committing against my sister."

_Say WHHHHAAAAA_ \- Kawakami feels her eyes widen, and they begin to dart back and forth between the two.

Kobayakowa's face continues to deepen in color. "Kawakami-sensei, if you wouldn't mind excusing us?"

She opens her mouth to acquiesce, but Sae cuts in. "She can stay. I'd like her input as well." Sae's gaze turns towards Kawakami, and the woman feels her blood go cold. "You are Sadayo Kawakami, correct?" Kawakami nods. "Makoto has, on occasion, spoken highly of you."

"Oh," she replies. "That's, uh, swell."

_Swell?_

Kobayakowa hurls a glare towards her. "I'm afraid, if would be entirely inappropriate for Kawakami-sensei to be privy to this conversation, Niijima-san, and-"

"As inappropriate as you holding my sister's letter of recommendation hostage? As inappropriate as you hiring a rapist?"

A few students were beginning to cast curious looks their way, and Kobayakowa shakes his head and roots around in his pockets. "Very well, very well," he spits, yanking out his keyring and sliding past Sae towards the door. "We'll speak inside." With the click of the lock, he turns his gaze back towards Kawakami. "Don't you have _anything_ else to do, Kawakami-sensei?"

She recoils, but dips her head in apology. "Of course, sir. I'll be on my way." She takes a step back and casts one last look at Sae Niijima. The woman stands there like a pillar, and when she notices Kawakami looking at her, gives a single, resolute nod, before she turns and follows Kobayakowa into his office.

The door shuts behind them.

_What the hell was that all about?_ What had Sae Niijima meant by holding the letter of recommendation 'hostage?' Kawakami is familiar with the somewhat shady methods by which Shujin instructors distributed their coveted letters of rec, but was something else going on?

She retreats from the hall, all thoughts of a nap banished by the morning's strange events.

Makoto Niijima is right where Kawakami suspects her to be, bent over a book in the Student Council Room, her pencil flying diligently over the page. She looks as tired as Kawakami feels, and the latter has to clear her throat several times before she looks up, blinking.

"Oh, Kawakami-sensei," Makoto says, standing.

"Good morning, Niijima-san," Kawakami says, sliding into the room and gently closing the door behind her. "Tired?"

"I'm alright," Makoto replies, and immediately yawns. "Sorry."

Kawakami shakes her head. "It's okay, I know the feeling. So," and she pauses, trying to find the right way to phrase things, "I just ran into your sister."

Crimson floods into Makoto's cheeks, and her face whips back towards the book. "I see."

As she opens her mouth to speak, Kawakami realizes that at some point, she had gripped her hands tightly together. She unclenches them and asks, "Is everything alright, Niijima-san?"

"Of course, Kawakami-sensei."

"Because I just saw your sister... _insist_ upon a meeting with the Principal." _She also said some things._

Makoto nods and looks back up at Kawakami with the faint hints of a smile. "Everything's fine, honest. It's nothing my sister can't handle."

Kawakami stares into the eyes of the girl and sees some real worry there, but all she can think to say is, "Well, okay then. It's alright if you'd like to tell me something." She could kick herself. That's just a line teachers use when they know the student won't actually reveal anything. It's a way to circumvent the guilt. Everyone knows it, but no one acknowledges it.

"Thank you, Kawakami-sensei," Makoto replies.

Kawakami sighs, but what can she do? _I should just mind my business, I guess_. Then, a fragment of her earlier conversation with the Principal returns to her. "Oh, by the way, Niijima-san, are you still tutoring Kurusu?"

Makoto stiffens and the pencil halts its scribbling. "Yes, I am, in fact," she replies.

Kawakami is taken aback by the reaction. "He's not giving you any trouble, is he?" _If he is, I swear I'll-_

But then Makoto looks back at her, and Kawakami sees a smile on her face, and a look in her eyes she's seen so many times in her students. “He’s not,” Makoto says. Realization comes fast and hard.

_Wow. She's got it bad_. Has Makoto Niijima ever had a boyfriend? Kawakami doesn't know her that well, but she doesn't think so.

A slow smile spreads itself across her face.

When Makoto sees this, she asks, "What?"

"Nothing," Kawakami replies. "Well, I'll let you get back to work. I hope everything works out with the Principal."

"I do as well," Makoto says. "Thank you, Kawakami-sensei."

She cannot help herself. As she steps out of the room, and into the hall, she says, "Oh, and Niijima-san?"

Makoto looks back at her. "Yes?"

Kawakami's smile erupts into a grin. "I told you he was cute."

The red returns in force to Makoto’s cheeks and then Kawakami shuts the door.

#

Kobayakowa does not get to offer Sae Niijima a seat. She simply strides across his office's floor and sits down in a chair, uninvited. He bristles from the rudeness.

_What did that bitch tell her?_ He had banked on Makoto Niijima simply doing what he had instructed. But of course, he's heard the name Sae Niijima. A Public Prosecutor that despite everything aligned against her has made a name for herself in the legal world. "Niijima-san, I assure you that-"

"You are withholding my sister's letter of recommendation until she digs up dirt on another student for you," Sae says.

_Goddammit!_ He smiles and forces out a chuckle. "I'm afraid that you are mistaken. I have made no such arrangement with your younger sister. I merely asked her to look into a certain situation here at Shujin, and explained that I would provide the already promised letter of recommendation once the task was complete. I am not, as you put it, holding it hostage."

Sae shakes her head. "Please. I am not some naive parent you can string along. You are withholding your letter of recommendation for my sister, Makoto Niijima, until she figures out how involved Akira Kurusu was in Suguru Kamoshida's confession."

_Does she know about the Phantom Thieves connection?_ Kobayakowa fights down the urge to swallow. "Again, I-"

"Are you aware that Suguru Kamoshida attempted to _assault_ my sister?"

His mind goes blank. "I... what? When?"

She leans towards him, and despite himself, he reclines further into his chair. "Does it matter?" She asks. "He attempted to sexually assault my younger sister, _in this building_. In _your_ school."

"K-Kamoshida-sensei's proclivities are-"

"Proclivities?" Sae asks. Her hand slaps down onto the hardwood desk, fingers splayed. "You still do not seem to grasp what I'm getting at. So, allow me to put it plainly. You _will_ provide my sister with the letter of recommendation. The letter you _already_ promised her. You will _not_ require her to further probe into the business of her fellow students. If you do not do these two things, I will make life very hard for you.”

He reaches his limit, and stands. "Now, see here! I will not stand for-"

Sae stands as well. "You will _shut up_ and do what you're told. Do you expect me to believe you were unaware of a _rapist_ operating on your campus? You were either complicit, or truly were unaware, and therefore, incompetent. Which do you think will play better?" Her words drip from her mouth like venom. "Do what I tell you, or I will come after you with the entire backing of the Special Investigation Department. We will squeeze you until there's not a drop of blood left in your body. We will _ruin_ you. _I_ will ruin you. Do you understand me?"

His hands shake. "I-I have friends in high places!" He spits.

Sae straightens, and shoulders her bag. "I trust I've made things clear. Stop this sham of an investigation and give my sister her letter of recommendation. If you don't, you will regret it." She turns on her heel and marches out the door. She slams it shut behind her.

He drops back into his chair. _How DARE she?!_ His hands still shake. Who did she think she was? To barge into his office and bark at him like a dog? Didn't she know who he was? Didn't she know what he was capable of?

He smiles.

_Well, I can certainly show her_.

He pulls out his phone and dials a number he was told to only ever call in an emergency. A part of him screams to calm down, to think clearly, but his blood is pumping too fast.

When the phone is answered, Kobayakowa says, "Hello? I'd like to make a request."

#

Makoto steps out of the Student Council room and joins the throng of students pulsing their way through Shujin's halls. It is almost time for homeroom, and thanks to Kawakami-sensei's jab, she'd been hard-pressed to focus her attention on the requisite paperwork. Despite everything involving the Principal, Akira, and Kamoshida, she still had work to do as the President.

Sae had accompanied her to school, quelling Makoto's fears about showing up later than usual to her office, but explaining that such an action would necessitate her staying late for the next few nights in a row. Makoto felt bad about that, but once Sae's mind was set upon something, she did not waver.

When they had arrived, Makoto had pointed her sister in the direction of the Principal's office, and retreated to the Student Council room, keeping her ears pricked for the sound of incoming sirens, whether an ambulance or police cruiser. _You never call tell with Sis_.

The school still seems intact, however, and Makoto wonders if Sae is still in Principal Kobayakowa's office, as she descends the steps to the first floor and makes her way towards her classroom. Her thoughts are so occupied, that she does not notice someone calling her name until the third time it's uttered.

"-oto?"

She glances in the direction of the voice. Akira Kurusu is standing close. Very close. Unbidden, Kawakami-sensei's words stab through her mind. _I told you he was cute!_ Makoto stiffens, make a noise that sounds something like, "Meep!" and takes a few steps away from him, pressing her back into the wall.

Akira blinks, then smiles and extricates himself from the students that cast him glances and whisper into each other's ears. He does not seem to notice them. Or if he does, he'd rather notice her. The thought makes Makoto's chest feel like warm chocolate.

He walks up to her and leans against the wall alongside her, his posture relaxed, his movements slow. "Hey," he says, softly.

"Hi," Makoto replies. _Okay. Relax. Don't let him know you're investigating the Phantom Thieves. That'll just scare him off!_

"Did you get any sleep last night?" He asks, his smile twisting into a knowing one.

"I did," she says, and glances around, suddenly feeling very awkward.

"Sorry if I kept you up," he says.

A pleasant nerve is struck, and she tosses him a glare she doesn't really mean. "Oh, please. Not everything is about you." She punctuates the sentence with a smile she can't help.

"Whatever you say," Akira replies with a shrug, his soft smile twisting into a smug grin. "I was thinking we could study together on Monday."

"Monday?"

He nods. "It's right before exams start, I know. But I'd like to get one session in with you before they actually begin."

"I see."

"Does that work for you?" He chuckles and looks down at the floor, as if suddenly embarrassed. "It's been a while, after all. I could really use a refresher."

"I think that works for me," Makoto says, and proudly keeps the excitement from her voice. "I trust that this session will actually _be_ a session, and not something outrageous?"

Akira's eyes dart up towards her own. "Well, so long as you don't clock me in the face, I think we'll be fine."

Akira's face flickers for a brief second. He looks a mix between, uncertain, excited, and...

_Sad?_

Then, his grin returns. "I'll do my best. Best behavior. Promise." He inclines his head. "Please, teach me."

She shakes her head. "Oh, stop it. Honestly, sometimes you're too much." Akira straightens, and looks on the verge of response, when his face pales and his eyes go wide. They focus on something behind her. A sudden presence gnaws at Makoto, and she stiffens. "What's wrong?" She asks, but then a throat clears behind her.

She turns and comes face to face with Sae. Her sister's arms are crossed across her chest, and a look of distaste is sculpted across her face.  "Akira Kurusu," she says, the words like distant thunderclaps.

What happens next is something that takes Makoto several moments to process, because Akira Kurusu screams. Or rather, he yelps. It is high-pitched, squeaky, short and panicked, and Makoto cannot believe a sound like that can come from him.

"U-uh," Akira babbles out after it, his face redder than she's ever seen it.

"Hi, Sis," Makoto says, louder than necessary, trying to redirect her sister's attention. "How'd it go?"

Her eyes don't even flicker away from Akira. "There should be no further issues."

"Th-that's good," Makoto replies. "Thank you."

"Akira Kurusu," Sae Niijima says again, and Akira straightens.

"Yes?"

"Join me outside, won't you?"

Neither Makoto nor Akira says anything for a moment, and then the latter stutters out, "W-well, homeroom is starting soon, so-"

"A minute is all I need."

Makoto is able to issue a strangled, "Sis!" under her breath, before Sae brushes past her and closes in on Akira.

"I'll see you at home, Makoto," Sae says, and gestures for Akira to follow her out to the front steps of Shujin.

He glances at her for one pitiful last look before he trudges after her.

_Sae is mad_ , Makoto thinks. _Crazy mad_. She'd warned Akira to stay away from Makoto. She'd told Makoto to stay away from Akira. And here she had skipped out on her own job to straighten things out at Makoto's school, and had discovered the two of them defying her orders. _I should've said something. I should've stuck up for him_. Now Akira was at Sae's mercy, and Makoto found herself genuinely wondering if she would ever see the boy again.

#

Akira angles himself towards the steps, prepared to sprint to safety if need be. A few students rush past the two of them, and into Shujin's hall. Sae stands there, waiting for them to get by, issuing them a cold look to hurry them along.

When they are alone, she says, "I had a talk with my sister last night. About you."

_If the stairs aren't an option, I could dash back inside. No one would help me, but I know the hallways pretty well by now. I could run out to the courtyard and leap over the wall_. He says, "Oh."

"She told me what you did for her."

Akira's mind runs blank. "What I did for her?"

Sae nods. "She told me she was in a room with Suguru Kamoshida, alone. She told me you got her out of that situation."

Akira's hands drift up to his cheeks. The swelling and discoloration is gone, but he still remembers the gift Kamoshida had given him for that defiance. "I-"

"Thank you." Her face deflates. A small smile crosses her lips. It looks _nice_. "If it were not for you, my sister would have been in tremendous danger. So, thank you." As Akira begins to wonder just what he should say in reply, Sae's shoulders slump just a bit and her eyes drop to the ground. "Makoto's still young, and sheltered. She doesn't understand how things work. I'm sure she thought she had good reason to be there, but to put herself in a compromising position like that..." She shakes her head. "She needs to be more careful."

Before he realizes what he is doing, Akira says, "It's not her fault." _She was trying to help me. She didn't ask to be taken into that room by that bastard._

Sae's eyes snap back to his. "I didn't say it was." Her shoulders stiffen, she straightens her posture, tilts her head back. Looks _down_ at him. "That being said, as Kamoshida is secure, the danger has passed. I recall telling you yesterday, to stay away from my sister. I'm sure she's learned her lesson, and no longer needs you looking out for her, if that is what you mistakenly believe you are doing."

"That's not-"

"Enough," she says, and Akira's mouth slams shut. "I know about your past. And while I am not ungrateful, my sister will not waste any more of her time on you. Do I make myself clear?"

Akira's eyes narrow. "How did you..." but then he remembers. Sojiro had told him that Sae was a Public Prosecutor. Finding out about the assault would've been easy for her.

"This isn't about you," Sae replies as Akira trails off.

Akira's mask slips. "Yeah, it never is."

"Understand that my sister is someone with a bright future ahead of her. And to successfully get there, she needs to focus. What she does _not_ need to do, is take time away from her studies and her work, and spend it on lost causes."

And there it was.

Akira's jaw works itself through a slow circle. After a few circuits, he mutters, "Okay. I understand."

Sae takes a step closer to him. "I don't know if you do, Akira Kurusu. So, get this through your head. Leave my sister alone."

"I get it."

"Good," Sae turns and begins to walk down the steps. "I don't expect we'll have reason to meet again, Kurusu. Goodbye. And thank you, once more."

Akira watches until she reaches Shujin's front gate and turns into the street. Then he says, "Morgana?"

The cat's head pops out of his bag. "Man, that was scary. Maybe we should-"

"Follow her," Akira says.

"Huh?" The cat wiggles his way out of the bag and drops to the stairs, landing on his paws. "What'd you mean?"

"She may not think we'll meet again, but my guess is we will. We should learn all we can about her."

Morgana stares down the steps, at the spot Sae had just occupied. "Well, if you're sure. Want me back after school?"

Akira nods.

Morgana hesitates for a moment before turning and trotting down the steps, then he turns in the direction Sae went, and likewise is gone.

Akira waits another minute, before he reenters Shujin, a scowl on his face.

#

Ann sighs and pouts. "Remind me _why_ I need to be here for this?"

Akira glances up from his phone and takes a deep breath. "Everyone needs an alibi for the next few days."

"Couldn't I have just gone shopping then, or something?"

Akira looks back down at his phone. He finishes typing his message to Makoto.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Your sister reiterated her orders. I'm supposed to stay away from you. So, I guess the study session is a no-go._

He smiles as he sends it, and tells Ann. "Then you'd be no different from the hundreds of other schoolgirls kicking off their weekend. That's why Ryuji is-"

"I know, I know," Ann replies. "That's why he's going around to different gyms and asking about their facilities. Couldn't I have just gone with him?"

Akira's phone vibrates. As he reads Makoto's message, he asks, "Getting sick of me?"

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: We ARE studying on Monday. I will drag you to the library if need be._

Akira smiles and starts to type.

Ann frowns. "No, I just don't like _this_ guy." She gestures towards the neon sign of 'Untouchable.'

**_AKIRA_ ** _: That sounds like it could be fun. ;)_

Morgana's head pops out from Akira's bag. "This is for the good of the team, Lady Ann. And I think Akira's got the right idea about this guy." The cat had followed Sae Niijima to an office complex in Shibuya, but seeing no easily accessible way inside, had abandoned the search.

Ann frowns, shuts her eyes tight, and shakes her head. "Fine. Let's get going then." She looks down at Akira's phone as it vibrates. "Haven't you flirted with her enough?" Ann rolls her eyes and splays her fingertips beneath her chin. In a high-pitched voice she says, "Oh, Akira! Your texts are _sooo_ manly!"

**_MAKOTO_ ** _:  (_ _ง_ _•̀_•́)_ _ง_

"Wow," Akira says. "She got better." He casts a sidelong glance at Ann. "And that sounds nothing like Makoto, by the way."

"Oh, Akira," Ann continues. "I just love how the thought of me punching you in the face gets you excited, even though my psychotic older sister forbade our love!"

Akira tries to fight down the laugh, but fails. Ann does so as well. He sends one final message.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Point taken. I'll see you Monday. Gotta run. Bye!_

"Okay," he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Let's procure some illegal equipment."

"I'll let you do the talking," Ann says, as they approach.

"Good idea," he says, as he pushes the door open.

A blast of cool air greets them as they step inside. Three sets of eyes turn towards them. Two belong to some young men, who look to be in their early twenties, standing together near the back of one of the aisles, heads ducked together in conversation.

The third belongs to the grizzled man with the charcoal cap behind the register. "You're back," he mumbles.

Akira waits for him to say more. He doesn't, so Akira nods. "We are."

The man's feet are up on the counter, but he withdraws them and sets them on the ground, leaning forward in his little chair. "If you want your fake medal back, it's already gone."

Akira shakes his head, and withdraws Nakanohara's picture frame from his bag. "I was looking to sell this.”

The man holds out his hand, and Akira passes the frame over to him. "Nice," he grumbles, then tosses it onto the counter. "I'll give you a thousand yen for it."

"A thousand?" Ann shouts. The two men in the back twitch at her outburst. "That's crazy!"

"You morons know I'm not a pawn shop, right?" The man asks. "You can't just haul your junk in here and expect me to offload it for you."

Akira puts a hand on Ann's shoulder. "To be honest, we're not really here for the picture frame."

"To be honest," the man replies. "I don't really care. You want the thousand yen or not?"

Akira stands before the surly manager, and narrows his eyes. "We'll take it, but we were hoping you might have something else."

The man stares up at Akira. "Oooh," he says. " _Something. Else._ Look, why don't you cut the bullshit and just tell me what you're doing here. I'm busy."

"Doesn't look like it," Ann mumbles.

Akira shuts his eyes and sighs. "You mentioned, last time, that you had... connections. We were-"

The man stands. "Shut up."

Akira blinks. "What?"

The man kneels down beneath the counter.

"What's he doing?" Ann whispers. Akira shakes his head. He does not know.

He straightens up a moment later, a paddle-like object in his hands. Another second, and he has marched around the counter. He stands before the two teens, and without a word, begins to pass the rod over them, held only a few inches from their skin and clothes.

"What're you doing?" Ann asks, taking a step back. "You pervert!"

"I already told you you're not my type," the man replies. "Just hold still." He passes the paddle over every inch of their bodies, then satisfied, nods and goes back behind the counter. "You're not wired. Guess you're not as dumb as you look."

"Huh?" Akira asks.

"You come into my store, sell some stuff, then come back a few days later with a picture frame, and act all weird? What was I supposed to think? Figured you were wired."

"Like, by the police?”

The man nods.

"I'm not," he says.

"I can see that." The man crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "So, what'd you want?"

Akira lets out a small breath and feels himself droop forward. "I, um, need something. A device."

"Is this a model gun related device? Because if it's not, I can't really help you."

Akira's eyes narrow. "You didn't just pat me down to tell me you don't have fake guns in stock."

The man smiles. "Why don't you be a bit more specific?"

Akira sighs. "I need a device that would let me communicate with my friends, without being tracked or recorded."

"So, a burner phone."

"Well, it would have to be something we could get on the cheap, disposable. Preferably something I could get more of if I needed it."

"So, a burner phone."

"It wouldn't have to be a smartphone or anything. Just something simple that I could use to make calls, and I'd need a few of them."

"Kid," the man says. "Trust me. You're talking about a burner phone."

"Oh," Akira says, blinking. "Okay then."

The man raises his arms in a shrug. "And why would you come to _me_ for a burner phone?"

"Because," Akira says, and leans in a bit. "You said you had 'connections.'"

The man frowns. "But why not just go to a store? You can buy burner phones on the up and up. They're just prepaid pieces of junk."

Akira averts his gaze. "I'd rather not."

The man smiles. "I get it. You're doing something you're not supposed to be doing."

"Can I go through you to get those phones, or not?"

"How many would you need?"

"Three, for starters."

"It'll cost you."

"How much?"

The man gives him a figure. Ann blanches.

Akira frowns. "Fine. But you said they'd be prepaid. How much would they be prepaid?"

The man gives him another figure. Ann blanches further.

Akira sighs. "Fine. That's good for now."

"For now?" The man chuckles. "Just how much shit are you into?"

Akira smirks a little. "Do you need to know that?"

The man returns the grin. "I suppose not. But I don't like the idea of you walking out of my Airsoft shop with a bunch of prepaid phones. So, you're gonna have to buy something else. I can put the phones in the box with the guns."

Akira nods. He'd been meaning to upgrade the Phantom Thieves’ arsenal anyway. "Deal."

"Well, then, I guess we-"

The door chimes and everyone turns to stare at the young, bespectacled boy that hurriedly steps inside. "Hey, Dad?" He squeaks.

"What is it, Kaouru?"

"W-well..."

The man grimaces. "Spit it out, already!"

"Those guys are back. The ones you said to keep an eye out for. They're outside, down the alley."

The man's face breaks into a scowl and he stands. "Shit."

He turns and moves to a small door behind the counter, and disappears through it. He returns a moment later with a bundle of cloth. He moves around the counter, grabs Akira's bag, and zips it open. "What the hell?" He asks, jumping back. "You've got a cat in here!"

"What's going on?" Morgana mewls.

Akira looks up at the man and says, "So?"

The man shakes his head and shoves the bundle inside, next to Morgana. "Never mind."

"What're you doing?" Akira asks, and the man whirls around on him.

"You want my help? Then you're going to help me first. Take this to your home and keep it there. Come back in a few days and return it to me." He reaches over to the countertop and takes a flyer advertising a new assault rifle model and holds it up to his face. "Don't come inside until you see this flyer in the window. That'll mean it’s all clear."

"What's going on?" Ann asks.

Akira nods. "Yeah, what _is_ going on?"

"Here's another lesson, kid," the man says. "Don't ask too many questions. It'd also be best if you don't open that bundle, either. Do this, and I'll help you. I'll even knock down the price a bit on the stuff we talked about."

Akira narrows his eyes, then says, "Fine."

"One more thing," the man says. "Those guys outside, they might stop you if you just start marching down the alley. So, when you get outside, you two are gonna have to kiss, passionately."

"What?" Ann shouts.

"Huh?" Akira replies.

The man shrugs. "Got to make them think you've got nothing to do with this place. Two teenagers locking lips should be enough."

Ann's face is beet red. "I'm not gonna just _kiss_ him!"

The man rolls his eyes. "Then freaking decide on something else, but get moving!" He nods towards the door.

Akira steals a glance at the kid, the one the man had called Kaouru near the office. His face is pale and his hands are shaking a bit.

"You know," Akira says, as he shoulders his bag. "I never got your name."

The man rolls his eyes. "Right, like I'm about to give you that _now_. Get going." He shoves Akira towards the door.

Ann opens it first, and marches outside. _Holy shit_ , Akira thinks. _Am I seriously about to kiss Ann?_ He swallows. He'll do it if it's for the good of the team, but it doesn't feel right.

They take a few steps, and Akira starts to close the distance, when Ann whips around with a storm on her face. "You call that a date!?" She screams.

Akira blinks. "Huh?" Behind her, further down the alley, he can see two men in plainclothes standing around as if they belong there. When Ann screams, their eyes dart over to her.

"You've been begging me all month to go out with you, and when I finally do, you take me to this dump!?" Ann screams again. " _And_ you spend the whole time texting another girl?"

One of the men nudges the other and the two share a small chuckle.

"You better not think I'm ever gonna go out with you again!" Then she whispers, very quickly, "Sorry about this," before she brings her hand around and smacks him in the face.

Somehow, the blow knocks the wind from him, and over his shock, he can hear a full-fledged guffaw from one of the men down the alleyway. Ann whispers, "Meet you at the diner?" And spins around, her hands clenched into fists, and marches off.

Akira stands still for a minute, until he feels Morgana squirming in the bag. "What's going on out there?" The cat whispers.

"Nothing," Akira mumbles. He dips his head forward and begins to walk out of the alley.

When he passes the two men, one of them calls out, "My condolences." The other laughs.

Akira smirks as he turns the corner, and brings a hand up to his face. _Nice thinking, Ann. But... DAMN that hurt._

"Morgana?" Akira asks.

"Yeah?" Comes the voice from inside his bag.

"Why do girls keep hitting me in the face?"

"You must have one of those faces."

Akira laughs, and turns down the road that'll lead him to the diner. "I guess so."

#

Akechi slides his phone back into his vest's pocket. A great marble staircase ascends before him, carved into the side of an enormous hill. He tilts his head further back and regards the swirling black clouds above. They rage and thunder and billow, but ultimately, release no rain. _Impotent, despite their bluster_.

A single, lazy step up the staircase is all it takes for the shadows to burst forth. They rise, writhing from their sludge-like pools, and distort themselves into caricatures of Greek hoplites, adorned in bronze chest armor and Corinthian helmets. Each grips an obsidian spear in their hands, and the weapons are leveled, one by one, towards Akechi. "Halt!"

"I seek an audience with the Great Educator," he says, a lazy lilt to his voice. He has much better things he could be doing. But, though house calls are his least favorite activity, he's aware of their necessity. "My name is Crow."

The shadows cast glances at one another, then raise their spears to point skyward. "The Great Educator," one intones. "In his boundless wisdom, is expecting you." He steps clear of Akechi's path and gestures towards the glittering Pantheon at the top of the stairs.

"Of course." He begins his trek, and the shadows fall in line alongside him. _Honor guards? Or just guards?_ The minds he's encountered in the Metaverse tend towards the static, but Akechi allows himself the capacity for surprise.

_Like this most recent development_. Two uneventful years of Metaverse wet work, and suddenly a group spontaneously bursts onto the scene, carves up the Palace of - of all people - a _gym teacher_ , and throws all the higher-ups into a panic.

Akechi had been positively delighted, until Kamoshida's interrogation. He was almost certain the names provided by the disgraced Olympian were the so-called Phantom Thieves, but he lacked definitive proof.

It didn't matter. The kids were sloppy, and sooner or later Akechi would seal their fates. For a moment, he had allowed himself to hope.

He reaches the top of the stairs and steps between the grand pillars of the Pantheon. The soldiers leave him, but he is greeted by another contingent of Shadows, these dressed in variously dyed togas, in a wide, flat amphitheater, all their faces turned towards the center.

There, stands the Shadow of Principal Kobayakowa. Similarly dressed in a bright, purple toga, the man gestures to his adoring audience and is in the middle of pontificating about something or other, when he spies Akechi approach.

"Ah!" He shouts, and smiles wide. "I take it you are the one known as Crow?"

Akechi nods. "I am."

"And I," the man says, gesturing to himself. "Am Kobayakowa, the Great Educator!"

"Uh-huh," Akechi replies. "So whom does the Great Educator fear so much that he wants me to kill them?"

Kobayakowa's eyes narrow, and the shadows bristle as they turn their heads towards Akechi. "I fear nothing and no one, and you would do well to watch your-"

"Let me explain how this works," Akechi cuts in. "You give me the name. You give me the reason. I leave. That's all." Some of the shadows begin to creep towards Akechi. "Keep your students in check."

The Principal frowns, but nods. "Very well. I seek the mental shutdown of Sae Niijima."

Akechi stares at the man for a moment, then breaks out into a laugh. Kobayakowa's frown deepens. When he can, Akechi says, "Sae Niijima? The Public Prosecutor? Are you joking?"

When the shadow speaks, his voice is a growl. "I do not jest! This woman seeks to directly hamper my investigation into the identity of the Phantom Thieves!"

Akechi's laughter stops, and he stares past Kobayakowa towards the far wall of the amphitheater. _How could Sae Niijima affect his assignment? It's true, she's the older sister of Makoto Niijima, but I never truly suspected that pushover to be a member of the Phantom Thieves. Her name was in that file to cover the bases. Kamoshida nearly raped her until Kurusu stepped in._

"Explain," he says. "Now."

Kobayakowa does, and the more he speaks, the more Akechi chides himself for being surprised.

"So, if I understand this correctly," Akechi says, once Kobayakowa finishes his story. "Almost immediately after you were assigned those names to investigate, you handed off this _vitally important_ task to a high school student. And not just _any_ high school student, one of the students you were supposed to investigate. Or, rather than handed off, perhaps I should say, _blackmailed_. This high school student, naturally, complains about this to her older sister, who is a _prosecutor_ , a fact you should have considered before attempting to blackmail her, who then marches right into your office and tells you to back off." Akechi pauses. "And because of this, you want me to kill her."

Kobayakowa says nothing.

"I am," Akechi says. "Impressed by how spectacularly you have managed to fuck this up."

"How dare you?" Kobayakowa shouts. "I am the Great Educator! This is my school! You will _not_ speak to me in such a manner!"

"Can you explain to me your reasoning behind blackmailing Makoto Niijima into doing this task?"

"Sheep," Kobayakowa says. "By means of obvious self-preservation, don't speak to wolves. If you wish to find the wolf in sheep's clothing, you send in another sheep."

Akechi stares at him, then sighs. "You seem to think yourself a wolf. Allow me to _educate_ you. You are no wolf." He tilts his head down towards the floor. "This _is_. Fenris!" His mask vanishes in a blue flame, and his chosen Persona materializes mid-leap. The great, shaggy wolf slams into Kobayakowa's form and tackles him to the dirt. It closes its jaws around the man's throat, but does not puncture the skin, merely holds him there, awaiting its orders. The Principal had not even had time to scream before he hit the ground, but he does now.

The surrounding shadows convulse, unsure of what to do.

"Be quiet," Akechi says, and walks over to where the Principal is held. He kneels down until their faces are inches from each other. He stares into the pitiable glowing yellow eyes of the shadow. "If I wanted to, I could kill you right now. Or delay it, have you do something horrible in the real world. Maybe I'll have you drive your car into a playground full of children. Maybe I'll have you stab some of your students with a butcher knife. Maybe I'll have you go into a hospital and smother a newborn baby in a crib." He looks into Kobayakowa's eyes for a little while longer, searching for something. Always searching for _something_.

He doesn't find it. He stands, and Fenris disappears. Kobayakowa scuttles backwards, eyes wide.

"Your request is denied," Akechi says, as he walks away. "Your real world counterpart will be informed as well.

"W-why?" Kobayakowa shouts. "I understand that I made a mistake in assigning Niijima to the task, but now that her sister is interfering, shouldn't we do something about it?"

Akechi's response is to pull out his phone. "I'd worry more about yourself," he says.

The man's next words come in a whimper. "I-I am the Great Educator-"

"You," Akechi says, as he pushes the button on his phone. "Are a high school principal. A sycophant with delusions of grandeur. You are nothing. Just like everyone else." With that, Akechi vanishes from the Metaverse.

#

Kobayakowa stares at the ceiling from his bed. _How much longer is this going to take?_

When he had called earlier that day, to make the request against Sae Niijima, before he could get out her name, the voice on the other line has said, "Not another word. Crow will be in contact."

But no one had. The day had passed uneventfully.

His phone rings. His hand shoots out and snatches it off his nightstand. "Finally," he says, as he sees the words, 'Unknown Number' on the caller ID. He answers it with, "Hello?"

"Request denied," comes the voice. The line goes dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back.
> 
> Took long enough, am I right? Thanks to everyone who kept reading, who kept leaving me comments and reviews and kudos while I was away. I really appreciate it. It was a busy couple of weeks, but things finally feel like they're settling back down. Hope you all enjoyed the new chapter!
> 
> I'm thinking of setting up a Twitter so people can drop a line if they would like to. Will probably do that sometime later this week, whenever I get the chance.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful Monday, and I'll talk to you soon! Thanks again!


	32. Off

5/8

Daisuke Takanashi opens his eyes to sunlight trickling in through the shades. He yawns. Remembering that it is Sunday, he rolls over and throws his blanket back over his head. He's got a lazy day ahead of him, and he intends to make the most of it.

His phone vibrates from its place on his nightstand. He snatches it up and curses when he sees who it is. The instructions are simple. The whole gang is meeting up at the arcade, and Takanashi is expected to bring enough money for all of them.

They want all the yen he'd taken from Maehara the day before. "Man, what a drag."

All he wants is to stay in bed, and not go outside. Now he's got to go to the arcade and entertain those jackasses.

He hops out of bed, and makes his way downstairs, a scowl on his face.

His mother stands over the stove, eyes focused on whatever she's cooking. It smells like eggs. "Morning," he grumbles.

She grunts in response, which is about as warm as it gets in the Takanashi household. Then, straightening as if she's just remembered something, she says, "You've got a letter."

"Huh?" Daisuke asks, as he pulls up a chair at the kitchen table. "A what?"

"A _letter_ ," his mother says, slowly, as if he's a moron. "A paper and envelope one. I found it in the hallway this morning. Must've been slipped through the mail slot." She nods towards the table. There's a small white envelop there, with his name scrawled across its front.

Daisuke leans over and takes it up the envelope. "Maybe it's a love letter," he says, smirking.

"For you?" His mother asks. "Doubtful."

Daisuke frowns, stands, and grabs a piece of crisp bread from the toaster. “I’ll eat in my room," he mumbles, and turns back towards the stairs.

"If you want to be rude, go ahead," she snaps in response.

He returns to his room, shuts the door, and plops down in his desk's chair. He bites into the bread, then takes another look at the envelope. It looks simple, nothing like those love letters he’s seen in anime. With a sigh, he slides one finger into the groove and starts to rip it open.

_Maybe I've won a million yen_.

He hasn't.

A red and black card greets him. "What the-?" He whispers, then he sees what it says.

_Dear Daisuke Takanashi, the Scourge of Shujin:_

_We've been watching. We know how you bully your fellow students. How you cheat and lie and steal from them. Your actions have harmed your schoolmates and are leading you down the road to ruin. That is why we have decided to change your heart. We will steal the corruption out of you, and you will see the error of your ways. This will happen tomorrow. Prepare yourself._

_Sincerely,_

_The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_

"No way," he says. "No _freaking_ way."

He knew his name had popped up on the PhanSite, that that _idiot_ Maehara had put a request out on him. But who would've thought the Phantom Thieves would bother with some kid like him? Didn't they have more important things to do?

Evidently not.

Unless.

Unless this was a trick. A scam. He reads the note through once more, then crumples it up. "Maehara, you _fuck_!" This was all that fat asshole’s doing! He was trying to pull a fast one! Trying to get him to back off, thinking that the Phantom Thieves were after him.

His breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps. _Calm down_ , he tells himself. _Calm down_. It was all bullshit. He didn't care what the rumors said. The Phantom Thieves weren't superheroes, and they weren't supernatural. They had blackmailed Kamoshida, somehow. And that other request people were talking about? The one with the stalker? That could've easily been faked. He throws the Calling Card into his waste basket.

"Yeah," he says, to no one. "Nothing to worry about. Nothing."

But, of course he doesn't believe it.

#

Joker stands before the gaping maw of Mementos. Mona sits on the ground alongside him, eyes narrowed and focused.

Skull leans against a pillar behind them, tapping his foot against the diseased concrete. "How much longer is this gonna take?" He asks.

"As long as it's supposed to, Bonehead," Mona hisses through gritted teeth. "This isn't an exact science."

"Yeah, well, we're kinda on a schedule here!"

Joker holds up a hand towards Skull. "Just let Mona do his thing. He's got this."

Skull rolls his eyes and keeps tapping his foot.

Joker turns his attention back to the stairwell leading down into the depths, and asks, "How _is_ it going, Mona?"

"It would be going a lot easier if you didn't keep distracting me!"

"Okay," Joker says, taking a few steps away from the cat. "Sorry." He turns and joins Skull against the pillar.

"What if Mona can't sense Takanashi's shadow?" Skull asks. "We've already sent the calling card!"

Their plan had a lot of moving parts, and Joker had to admit, he was nervous about their capacity to pull it off. But he was the leader, and he couldn’t let the others know that. "He'll find it. And if he can't, we'll come up with something else."

"Got it!" Mona shouts, standing. "I can totally sense Takanashi. He just appeared."

"So?" Skull asks, pushing himself off the pillar. "How far down is he?"

Mona turns to them with a cocky smile. "Two floors. Piece of cake."

Joker lets out a sigh, and allows himself to relax a bit. "That's good."

"Yeah," Skull says. "If he was deeper than that, we would've been screwed."

"Let's head back," Mona says, jogging up to them. "And check in with Lady Ann."

"I gotta meet up with Mishima in a few minutes," Skull says, taking his phone from his pocket.

"Remember," Joker says, as Mona hops up onto his shoulder. "Don't go into too much detail. Just show him the ropes, tell him where to go, and give him the script."

"I got it, I got it," Skull says, grinning. "Don't worry. I won’t screw this up."

"It’s not you I’m worried about," Joker mutters, as Skull uses his phone to take them out of the Metaverse.

#

Ann stands outside Room 345. She takes a moment to prepare herself, then opens the door.

Shiho's eyes shoot her way, and they brighten when they see her. "Hi, Ann!"

"Hey, Shiho," Ann says, and shuts the door behind her. She closes the distance between them and wraps the girl in a light hug. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Shiho says, and moves a sticky strand of hair from her face. "The doctors say I can start physical therapy soon."

"That's great."

"Mmmhmm," Shiho replies. "I can't wait. I feel like I've been sitting in this bed forever. I want to move around, even if it hurts."

Ann pulls up a chair and sits down. "You're really brave, Shiho."

The girl's cheeks redden and she shakes her head. "No. I'm not really." She smiles, and it looks almost like her old one. "I'm just bored." She glances past Ann, towards the door. Then, she leans towards her friend and whispers, "I saw that website. The PhanSite. I guess that means you guys are going to keep changing hearts, right?"

Ann frowns and nods. "Um, yeah. We're working on our next move, as a matter of fact."

"Wow," Shiho says, eyes widening. "I still can't believe you were the ones who took down Kamoshida."

"Yeah, well, that bastard deserved a lot worse than he got."

Shiho nods but doesn't reply. Then she reaches out and takes Ann's hand. "Are you okay? You seem off today."

Ann bites her lip and averts her eyes. "Well, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Two things, actually."

"What's up?"

Ann tells her what Morgana overheard. "They suspect me?" Shiho asks, paling. "B-but, I was in a _coma_!"

"I know," Ann says, nodding, patting Shiho’s arm as the girl’s breath starts to grow more ragged. "We know. Calm down. It's probably because you were the last person Kamoshida hurt before he confessed. Maybe they just think you're an accomplice, or you asked us to do something to him. Maybe they don't really suspect you, but figure they might as well make sure. Just, be careful, okay? We're doing our best to handle it." She frowns and dips her head forward. "And, well, that's the second thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" Shiho asks, refocusing.

Ann locks eyes with her friend. "We need your help." She walks Shiho through the plan.

#

Akechi raps his knuckles against the office door. "Knock, knock," he intones, pleasantly.

Sae Niijima looks up from her desk. Immaculate for the most part, her eyes are bloodshot. Unsurprising, given how long she's been bent over her case files.

"You really should get some more light in here, Niijima-san," Akechi mutters, but waits patiently at the door. His eyes flicker over the office. Everything is neat. Everything is in its place. There’s just so much of it. Dozens of files are stacked atop filing cabinets Akechi happens to know are filled to the brim. Her desk is seemingly giftwrapped in manila folders, files, and reams of paper.

The look Sae gives him isn't one of warmth, but it holds no malice. If Akechi had to name it, it would be ‘neutral.’

"Akechi-kun," Sae says after a time. "May I help you?"

Akechi takes a single, soft step inside. "It's been some time since we've spoken, I thought we might catch up. A new sushi place recently opened in Shibuya and I've been dying to check it out." He flashes her his best grin. "Your treat, of course."

Her eyes roll. "I'm afraid I’m too busy to entertain you."

"Well then," Akechi says, and takes another step forward. "Perhaps I could entertain you instead? Or, at least, be of assistance? Are there any cases you'd like me to take a look at?"

Sae eyes glaze over, and swim over the forest that is her office. "I haven't actually looked at all my assigned cases. There very well may be something for you to take a look at, but I haven't come across it yet."

"I see," Akechi replies, and steals his way into a seat across from her. "Well, it's no surprise you've a lot of cases. Things are getting crazy out there, in the city." Sae only nods in response. "Take that gym teacher, Suguru Kamoshida, I think his name was? Unbelievable, wouldn't you say?"

At the name, Sae visibly stiffens. _Alright_ , Akechi thinks. _Let's find out just how much your sister told you._ Akechi’s interrogation of Kamoshida was kept off the books. As far as Sae Niijima knew, Akechi had never spoken with the rapist.

"Your sister," Akechi says, as if just remembering it. "She attends Shujin Academy, yes? It must've been quite shocking for her, to see that man confess to his crimes like that."

Sae frowns. "Makoto was... fazed, yes."

_Fazed. So she told you about his advances on her_. That was only natural. "What does she think about these, so-called, Phantom Thieves? Does she think they're her fellow students?"

Sae shrugs. "Does it matter? Suguru Kamoshida confessed to his crimes. He'll rot in jail, where he belongs."

Akechi nods. "I suppose," he says, with a speculative lilt to his voice. "But it would appear that, given their recent activities, the Phantom Thieves are more than just a new urban legend. If it could be proven that Kamoshida's confession was coerced, it might be disregarded as evidence."

Sae's hand tightens around her pen. "That _won't_ happen. Suguru Kamoshida _will_ be sent to jail, and if I have anything to say about it, he'll _die_ there."

"I see," Akechi replies, his voice appropriately awed. "Well, onto cheerier topics then. How is your sister doing? She's a third year, correct?"

"Why the interest in my sister, Akechi?"

"I like to think of it as an interest in you, Niijima-san. We're friends, aren't we?"

By response, Sae says, "Makoto is fine. She..." and here she pauses for a moment, before continuing on, "strayed from her path, recently. But she's fine."

"Oh? Strayed, how? If you don't mind my asking?"

Sae sighs, lets her pen fall, and leans back in her chair. "There is a boy. _Was_ , a boy."

_My, aren't we candid tonight?_ Akechi's eyes widen and he lets out a small chuckle. "I see. I think I can fill in the blanks. Does this boy unfortunate enough to have drawn your ire have a name?”

Sae scoffs. "Believe it or not, he's a criminal."

_Makoto likes bad boys, huh?_ "Well, what are we talking about here? A shoplifter? A yakuza enforcer?"

"I'd appreciate it you didn't joke about this."

"Sorry."

Sae shakes her head. "He's a transfer student. He assaulted someone a few months ago. Got himself expelled. And now he's at Shujin."

_Oh. She's talking about Akira Kurusu. Interesting. Given that he jumped to rescue Makoto from Kamoshida, I would say the feelings are mutual. How does Sae feel about that, I wonder?_ "You said there ‘was’ a boy. I take it you confronted him?"

Sae arches an eyebrow. "Why would you think I did anything?"

_Because you won't let anything interfere with your trajectory, and the younger sister of a Public Prosecutor falling in love with a criminal would be a scandal used against you_. "Because you love your sister and would do anything to protect her."

A faint smile tugs at the edges of Sae's mouth. "Am I that easy to read, Akechi?"

_More than you know_. He shrugs and smiles. "I _am_ a detective, Niijima-san."

"I did talk to him. I’d like to think that he understands his place, but I don’t know. There's something about him." Her smile fades and she focuses on Akechi. Really focuses on him. "He reminds me of you."

Akechi feels his adrenaline spike, but he keeps his face impassive. "How so?" He asks, teasingly.

Sae leans forward, and is silent for a moment. Then she says, "I don't know."

Akechi brushes a few strands of hair from his face. "I hope you won't start treating me like you do this young man."

Sae's frown deepens. "We'll see."

Akechi gives her his best, 'slightly intimidated chuckle,' and averts his eyes. "Geez, now I _am_ worried." _Sae Niijima. What does she know? Does she know anything? She's smart and driven, but that makes her blind. She may have some of the dots, but she doesn't know they connect_. Akechi knew firsthand, that while Sae maintained a stern demeanor, internally she was an absolute mess. _She contributes to this thing of ours without knowing anything about it. That's valuable, but it also makes her a liability_. Kobayakowa was wrong. Killing Sae Niijima was the wrong move. That didn't mean it would always be so.

"Actually," Sae says, and her eyes take on the faraway look she sometimes gets when her brain works overtime. "I did want to ask you something, Akechi."

"Oh?"

"It's about Yukio Kan."

Akechi covers his shock by pretending to think about the name. "Ah, yes. That was the name of the 'New Dawn' politician who died a few days ago, correct?"

His shadow had been a sniveling little thing.

"His death was ultimately ruled a heart attack."

"I believe I read that in the paper."

"I'm not so sure it was."

_Perhaps she's not as blind as I think_. "And what do you think he died of?"

"I have no idea," Sae replies. "But something about the whole thing rubs me the wrong way."

"How so?"

"How quickly it was wrapped up. Yukio Kan was an up and coming politician. Yet his demise, after the initial report, was never really followed up on. They threw out a cursory article detailing his cause of death, but it wasn't picked up by any news outlets. It feels... _off_ somehow."

"Off?"

She nods. "I know it sounds strange, but I've got this _feeling_. And it's something I've only felt twice before."

Akechi listens as she speaks, and begins to wonder if he shouldn't consider hastening Sae Niijima towards her inevitable downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Thank you to everyone who has read Crimson! I'm glad Monday's chapter was so well received, and I hope you all enjoyed today's as well.
> 
> Just an FYI, I think that, starting next Monday, I'll decrease the chapter output from 3 to 2 per week. I know, it sucks, but I think this is the best way to ensure I can keep posting consistently and with a level of quality I'm happy with. Once things settle down in my life, I may switch back, but for now, I think this is the best way forward. Thank you for your understanding, and again, thank you for reading Crimson! I'll see you on Friday!


	33. False Flag

5/9

"And then," Makoto says, placing her finger next to the appropriate equation, "You would use this to..." She trails off.

Akira sits next to her, but his eyes are on his phone. He is smiling, and typing away.

"Is there a problem, Akira?" She asks, putting as much steel in her voice as she can.

Akira pales by a fraction and glances over at her. "I'm sorry. It's Ryuji. He needs advice. Badly."

"Oh? And that takes precedent over studying?"

Makoto cannot decide which of Akira's smiles she likes better, but the nervous grin he flashes her is a top contender. "Well, it's kind of important." He leans in towards her and whispers, "Don't tell anyone, but he's going to ask Ann out pretty soon."

Makoto's eyes widen, and all thoughts of studying vanish. "Seriously?" _Sakamoto is going to ask Takamaki out? Does that mean Akira isn't interested in her? Does that mean Takamaki is interested in Sakamoto and not Akira?_ She feigns disinterest into her voice when she asks, "And you support him in this?"

"Of course I do," Akira says, with a confused look on his face. Then, his lips slowly curve back into a smile. "Wait. Did you think I _liked_ Ann?"

Makoto opens her mouth, but her words are dust and nothing comes out. When she manages to wrestle back her composure, she replies, "No, I didn't think that. I was just wondering."

"It's just that you seem awfully interested," Akira says, his voice doing that teasing, annoying _thing_ it does that makes Makoto's heart flutter.

"D-Don't you think he should focus on his studying?"

Akira spits out a laugh. "Ryuji? Study? Yeah, right. He's wandering around Shibuya Underground right now, looking for a gift for her." He sets his phone down in front of her. "Check it out. It's hilarious."

Makoto's eyes falls to the screen.

**_RYUJI_ ** _: All hands on deck bro!_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: What's wrong?_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Remember how I told you I wanted to get something for Ann? Well I'm kinda stuck! HELP!_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Like physically stuck? Or figuratively?_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Stop jokin' dude, this is an emergency!_

**_RYUJI_ ** _: What do I get Ann? She likes fashion and all that shit, but I don't know anything about it! Hold on, let me take a pic of some stuff. Let me know what you think._

The following texts included numerous images of various clothing items, jewelry pieces, and chocolates. "It seems he's very invested in this," Makoto says, as Akira scrolls through the dozen or so pictures.

"When Ryuji gets an idea in his head, he goes all out," Akira replies. He texts his friend back, and a moment later the phone vibrates in response. Akira chuckles and shows Makoto the phone.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: You should buy everything. Ann's got expensive tastes._

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Are you serious?! You know I can't afford all this shit! Dude, HELP!_

Makoto smiles. "You shouldn't tease him like that."

Akira shakes his head. "He knows I'm just messing with him. Besides, I shouldn't just _tell_ him what to get her, right? She’ll appreciate it more if he figures it out on his own.”

"That's..." Makoto starts, then frowns. "A rather romantic way of looking at things."

Akira smiles _that_ smirk. "I'm a romantic guy."

Makoto averts her gaze from him. "Takamaki, I'm sure, like you said, would appreciate anything Sakamoto gets her. Is she meeting with him later?"

Akira shakes his head. "No. She's visiting Shiho at the hospital today, actually."

"Oh," Makoto says. "That's good. How is Suzui?"

Akira smiles. "I'll ask." He types out another quick message and sends it. A few moments later, his phone vibrates.

His grin increases and he turns the phone towards Makoto. It's a selfie. Ann, in what looks like a hospital room, dressed in a blank sleeveless t-shirt, with her arm thrown around Suzui, who smiles from the room's bed. The black haired girl looks exhausted, but happy, and Makoto smiles at the photo.

"She looks good," Makoto says.

Akira nods. "I think she is." He sets his phone down and sighs. "I'm sorry. I know I've been distracted today. And you're doing this to help me."

"Please," Makoto replies, raising her hand. "It's no problem. I'm just glad you've adjusted so well to life at Shujin."

Akira shrugs. "I don't know if 'adjusted' is the right word." His eyes dart in her direction and he mutters, "But I'm happy I came here."

Makoto turns her own gaze back to the textbook. "I am too."

#

Takanashi is on the subway when it happens.

Like shedding a second skin, the anxiety and rage and hate slough off him. He stands up, startling the other commuters, and presses his head into his hands. A single, choked sob breaks from his lips.

"Maehara," he groans. "I'm so sorry, Maehara."

_I need to call him. I need to CALL HIM_. He runs to the door, but the train is still moving, so he stands there and hops from one foot to the other, impatiently, until they come to a stop at the next station. It isn't his, but he bolts outside as the doors open, and squirms his way out of the congestion of people.

He pulls out his phone, dials Maehara, and waits.

"H-hello?" Comes a voice on the other end.

"Maehara?" Takanashi moans. "It's me."

"Daisuke?"

"I'm sorry man," Takanashi moans, and leans against a railing overlooking the local neighborhood. "All that horrible shit I did to you, I'm so sorry! I was scared, man! There're these guys and they kept picking on me and told me they'd only stop if I passed it along and did worse, so I took it out on you and I'm _so_ sorry!"

"Whoa, it worked," Maehara mumbles into the phone.

"Huh?"

"Oh!" Maehara says. "It's fine. Really. I forgive you. We're friends after all. But listen, I gotta go. I promised them I'd post about it the second you called."

"What?" Takanashi asks. "Who?"

"Duh! The Phantom Thieves, of course!" Maehara says, and then the phone disconnects.

#

Skull, Panther, and Mona lay panting at the entrance of Mementos.

"Never again," Skull groans, between gasps. He turns one angry glare towards Panther, who lays on the ground, breath ragged, forearm flung over her face. "You're _never_ driving again!"

#

Akira sits at the desk in his room. He has a pen in his hand, but there's no paper on which to write. Instead, he's tapping the tip against the wood, again and again.

"You should relax," Morgana says, from his spot on the bed. "Everything worked out!"

"I know," Akira replies. "That's why I'm nervous."

On the surface, it hadn't been that complicated of a plan. It had merely possessed so many moving parts, too many variables. Too many things could've gone wrong.

Akira takes out his phone and pulls up the PhanSite. He reads through the post made by Maehara once more.

_‘I just got a call from my friend! Just now! The Phantom Thieves just changed his heart!_ ’

Akira frowns. _Did he have to use the word 'just' so many times? It's like he was trying to call attention to the time frame_.

Well, that had been the point. Still, Akira would've appreciated a little bit of subtly from the boy whose request they had fulfilled.

His phone vibrates.

**_RYUJI_ ** _: Hey dude, thanks for the help today. I decided to get her a necklace. It's not expensive, but don't tell her that, okay?_

Akira smiles and replies.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Your secret is safe with me._

And there's the code phrase. Ryuji's phone is back in his possession.

"I suppose," Akira says to Morgana, "that I'll have to thank Mishima. He actually did a good job."

"So, Makoto bought it?"

Akira nods. "I’m pretty sure. Hopefully, she thinks I was texting with Ryuji the whole time."

"Mishima followed the script?"

"To the letter. He sent the selfie from Ann's phone right on time too."

Mishima was the factor that had worried Akira the most. Try as he might, he couldn't come up with any other plan that would establish alibis for the three Phantom Thieves, that didn't involve his help.

The boy had been all too happy to assist.

After they'd established the location of Takanashi's shadow in Mementos, Ryuji had met up with Mishima in the fashion district of Harajuku. There, they had purchased a blonde wig. Then, Ryuji had coached Mishima on how to walk just like him.

Monday morning, the four of them had met before school, and exchanged phones. Akira took Mishima's cell, Ryuji took Akira's, and Mishima took Ryuji's and Ann's.

It had been Mishima texting Akira from Ryuji’s phone, during his study session with Makoto. They’d had him follow a script Ryuji and Akira had put together the other day.

And if anyone bothered to check security cameras in Shibuya Underground at the time, they’d see a blonde boy in a Shujin Academy uniform stalking from shop to shop.

Mishima had also, when prompted by Akira’s text, sent the selfie of Ann and Shiho, which had been taken by Ann the previous day, when she'd visited her friend.

Not only had Mishima been texting his own phone, but he’d also been texting Akira’s. Given that the Phantom Thieves only needed _one_ phone to access the Metaverse, and one phone to exit, Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana had used Akira’s. After defeating Takanashi’s shadow, and exiting the Mementos, Mishima’s texts had flooded onto Akira’s phone in one big bundle. Yes, the time stamps were off, but Akira doubted anyone would look too closely, and he could always cite a bug.

Meanwhile, Mishima, after getting his phone back from Akira at Shibuya Station, was to delete all the texts from his phone, and use his computer know-how to ensure they couldn’t be found again. Akira had _major_ reservations about this last part, but Mishima had sworn it wouldn’t be a problem.

In the end, the Phantom Thieves had all established alibis.

Ryuji Sakamoto was in Shibuya Underground, searching for a potential gift for the girl that he liked, and texting his best friend the whole time, asking for advice.

Ann Takamaki had visited her best friend, Shiho Suzui, in the hospital.

Akira Kurusu had spent the afternoon studying with Makoto Niijima.

And while all this had been going on, the Phantom Thieves had changed the heart of Daisuke Takanashi, which was confirmed by Maehara’s post on the PhanSite.

Naturally, there were plenty of things that could’ve gone wrong, and plenty of things that might still go wrong.

Akira's head spun a little, thinking about it. "Of course," Akira says to Morgana, "if anyone bothers to check the security cameras at the hospital, they’ll see that Ann wasn't anywhere near Shiho today. And if Mishima isn't as good as he says he is, someone might be able to see that the messages were all flubbed and screwed with. Not to mention that the plan doesn’t establish an alibi for him, at all." _And this is the last time I’m going to rely on that kid._

Morgana shakes his head. "I think you're worrying too much."

"That's my job, Morgana," Akira replies. "To worry. To analyze. To lead." He stretches his arms over his head. “But, that’s enough about Takanashi and Makoto. It’s time to focus on Madarame.”

#

Makoto lays on her bed, and stares at her ceiling. “What’re you trying to do, Akira?”

Almost immediately after the two of them had gone their separate ways, a post had appeared on the PhanSite. The Phantom Thieves had struck again. This time against Daisuke Takanashi, a fellow Shujin student, who had promptly called his friend to apologize for harassing him.

And…

Given that Akira had been with _her_ the whole time, and been constantly texting with Sakamoto, _and_ had received a selfie from Takamaki and Suzui, it would appear that all four were cleared of having anything to do with the Phantom Thieves.

But.

Something bothered her about the whole thing. It all felt too _neat_. Too perfect. Akira had never spent so much time texting Sakamoto or Takamaki during their study sessions before. He had always been devoted to the work, and to her.

And who knew how the Phantom Thieves _actually_ changed hearts? It was a total mystery. What if they could delay the time? What if they actually changed Takanashi’s heart much earlier, but had Maehara wait until a specific time to post about it?

_I suppose I could find out about that from Maehara directly_.

Still, there was something else that nettled at Makoto. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. She ran over everything in her head, once more. Akira had chosen Monday for a study session. During said session, he had spent a lot of time texting Ryuji Sakamoto. When Makoto had asked about Ann Takamaki, Akira had texted her and the girl had promptly sent a selfie…

She sits up. “The picture,” she says to no one.

The picture Takamaki had sent Akira. It had been a photo of Takamaki and Suzui, presumably in the latter’s hospital room. Both were smiling. Suzui wore her hospital gown.

But Takamaki _wasn’t_ wearing her Shujin uniform. She’d worn that varsity jacket thing. Makoto has seen Takamaki out in Shibuya during the week several times, and the girl always wore her uniform.

So, why would she have changed _before_ going to see Suzui? And given that the hospital was some distance from Shujin, and that Takamaki had texted Akira relatively early on in their study session, had she even had time to go home and change?

She shakes her head. _Wait. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe I’m just looking for something to be wrong._ _After all, I brought up Takamaki._

Except she hadn’t. Akira had brought up Takamaki. He had told her that Sakamoto was going to ask her out, which had prompted Makoto to ask after her. And then _Akira_ had told her that she had gone to see Suzui in the hospital. Makoto had naturally asked how Suzui was doing, and Akira had texted Takamaki to find out.

She runs through it all again. The texting. The selfie. The timing of the PhanSite’s posting. It all felt _designed_.

Designed to fool her.

And what did that mean?

Makoto’s eyes widen.

_He knows I’m looking into him. He knows I’m looking into his connection to the Phantom Thieves._ And if Akira Kurusu was trying, desperately, to prove he had no connection to the Phantom Thieves, that meant he _did_ have a connection to the Phantom Thieves.

He _was_ a Phantom Thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday people! Hope you're enjoying your weeks, and I hope you enjoyed this last chapter of Crimson!
> 
> So, I've decided that going forward, I will switch to a Monday/Friday posting schedule. I know, it stinks, but I think this is the best thing for this fic. As I've told several people now, I don't want to scribble something out just to make a deadline, and these chapters are getting longer and longer.
> 
> Anyway, thank you, as always, for reading! Have a great weekend!


	34. Leads

5/10

When the knock at the door comes, Makoto takes a few moments before she responds. She straightens in her chair, slides the half-completed paperwork aside, ensures not a thread of her clothing is out of place, that her hair isn't doing anything it shouldn't.

"Come in," she calls.

The door slides open to reveal Daisuke Takanashi, one hand in his pocket, shoulders slumped, head down. "G-good morning, Niijima-senpai," he mutters.

She folds her hands, one on top of the other, upon the table, and nods. "Please, come in, Takanashi-kun."

He steps inside, and slides the door shut behind him. Then, he remains still, his posturing folding in on itself.

"How are you?" Makoto asks. "Are you prepared for your exams?"

He shrugs. "I guess so."

"That answer doesn't inspire confidence."

He shrugs again.

Makoto sighs. "Takanashi-kun, are you aware of why I called you here?"

Face still angled towards the floor, he shakes his head.

Makoto allows a hint of annoyance into her voice. "I would appreciate it, Takanashi-kun, if you would look at me, while I speak with you."

The boy sucks in his lips, forming a pale, thin slash across his face, and lifts his head. "Yes, Niijima-senpai."

"There," Makoto says. "Isn't that-" She stops, when she sees his face. His right eye is swollen in a giant, black bruise. "What happened?" She asks, standing, chair sliding back across the floor with a sharp creak. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing happened," Takanashi replies, and looks away. "I'm fine. It's nothing. I walked into a glass door."

Makoto sees the broken and bloody face of Akira Kurusu, as his friends drag him from the building. Her hands begin to shake, and she rubs them together until they stop. "That's not _nothing_ , Takanashi-kun," Makoto says, moving around the table. "Tell me what happened."

Daisuke Takanashi shrinks back from her. "N-nothing happened! I swear! I walked into a glass door."

"That's a lie."

"It's not!" He glares at her with his one good eye. "And it's none of your business anyway! Is this why you asked me to come here? To give me shit about this?" He jabs a thumb towards his bruise. “Because if it is, I’m leaving!”

"N-no," Makoto replies. She begins to reach a hand out towards his face, but when he steps back, she stops. "That's not what I wanted to ask you about."

"Then what do you want?"

_Who did this to him? It couldn't have been the Phantom Thieves, could it? Is this how they change hearts? By hurting them? No, that doesn’t make sense._

"I wanted..." Makoto starts, then trails off. She shuts her eyes. _Focus. Don't get distracted. File this away for another time. Get back to the real issue_. She takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and tries not to focus on the boy's face. "I wanted to ask if you were okay."

"I told you, I walked into-"

"Not about that," Makoto says. She takes her phone from her pocket and shows him the screen.

Daisuke Takanashi's eye goes wide. “The PhanSite,” he mumbles.

"Your name was posted on this site."

"Yeah."

"Apparently, the Phantom Thieves performed a change of heart on you."

He nods. "I guess so."

Makoto lowers her phone. "So?"

Takanashi stares at her. "So... what?"

"What happened?" Makoto asks.

"I don't know what happened," Takanashi says, his voice low and dry. "I was on the train, yesterday, and the next thing I knew, I just _had_ to call Maehara and apologize to him."

"Did anyone coerce you? Force you to call him?"

He shakes his head. "No. That's what I'm telling you. I wasn't doing _anything_. Just riding the train. And then I realized what a shit I'd been to Maehara, and it felt _so bad_ and I just… had to call and apologize."

Makoto stares at him. "No one spoke to you? No one touched you, or did anything to you?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think so. I bumped into a bunch of people when I was rushing off the train, but I don't remember anyone grabbing me. And there definitely wasn't anyone who talked to me."

_Is he lying?_ "If no one spoke to you, or did anything to you, how do you even know that the Phantom Thieves changed your heart?"

"They told me they would," Takanashi says. His gaze drifts back down to the floor. "They sent me a calling card. Just like Kamoshida-sensei."

"They did? When?"

"I got in the mail on Sunday. I thought it was a joke. I knew Maehara had put my name up on the site, but I didn't think it was real."

"Do you have it?" Makoto asks, her hands clenched.

He shakes his head. "Like I said, I thought it was a joke. I threw it out."

Makoto opens and closes her hands several times. She sucks in her lower lip and shuts her eyes once more. _Relax. It’s not his fault_. "Do you remember what the card said?"

Takanashi relates the general gist of it, to the best of his recollection. "It was short," he says. "Only a few sentences."

As Makoto listens, she tries to fit this new information into the larger picture she's constructing in her mind.

"Thank you," she says, once he finishes. "I know it's getting close to homeroom. But, please humor me for one more question."

"Fine."

"Have you, in the last few days, had a run-in with Akira Kurusu?"

"Akira Kurusu?" Takanashi asks. "You mean that transfer student who killed that gang leader?"

Makoto sighs. _I see the rumors are still going strong_. "I assure you, Akira Kurusu has _not_ killed anyone, gang leader or otherwise. Please, just answer the question."

"No," he says. "I haven't."

"And what about Ryuji Sakamoto, Yuuki Mishima, or Ann Takamaki?"

Takanashi sighs. "I don't see Mishima around. Like, at all. But I did see Sakamoto and Takamaki the other day. I was... beating up Maehara, and they ran by and tried to stop me. They were on a date."

Makoto stiffens. "When was this?"

"Uh..." Takanashi replies. "I think it was, Friday? Yeah, Friday. After school."

_The day Kobayakowa told me to investigate the Phantom Thieves_. If Sakamoto and Takamaki had been on a date _last week_ , then what Akira had said about Sakamoto asking her out 'soon' was a lie.

_Another one_.

Makoto works her jaw in a slow circle, staring ahead, as her brain processes this.

"Um, Niijima-senpai?"

She blinks and looks over at him. "Yes?"

"Can I go now?"

"Of course, I apologize for keeping you." She waves him off. _What else was a lie? The photo of Takamaki and Suzui, sure. But the date too? What does that mean?_

#

Ryuji lets out a long, angry groan, and drops his head into his textbook. "I can't take it anymore!"

Ann rolls her eyes and jabs him in the shoulder. "Stop complaining. You've said that, like, eight times now."

"Seriously," Morgana mumbles. "I'm retaining this stuff better than you."

Ryuji turns his head until he faces the cat. "Can it. It's not like you're under any pressure to do well on these exams."

"You aren't even studying," Ann whispers. "You've just been talking about Takanashi non-stop."

Ryuji straightens and shakes his head. "No," he replies, his voice as low as Ann's. "I just think we should do something about that bullying ring. The one his shadow told us about. It sounds more important than some stupid tests."

Akira drums his fingers across his textbook's page, and with his other hand, lifts the tea to his lips. "We went over this, already," he says, once he’s taken a sip. "We need to draw attention _away_ from Shujin." When Ryuji opens his mouth to counter, Akira shakes his head. "I understand where you're coming from." He casts a glance around the diner. It's afterschool on Tuesday, and the majority of the patrons are in school uniforms. None are from Shujin. "But the Phantom Thieves can't only be known as the saviors of Shujin. We should save any requests from Shujin, for later."

"Right," Morgana says, nodding. "That's why we should focus on Madarame right now. He's got nothing to do with Shujin, so he's a perfect target."

Ryuji sighs. "Fine, but when are you gonna call that reporter chick?"

"I'll check for the poster at Untouchable when we're done here. If it's there, then I'll drop off the package and get the stuff."

"Wait," Ryuji says, eyes widening. "You've got that package on you, _right now?_ "

Akira nods. "Yeah, I never took it out of my bag."

"Which is very annoying, by the way," Morgana mutters.

"Do you know what it is?"

"Nope. I figure, the less I know, the better."

"But what if it's, like, a bomb?"

"Thanks, Ryuji," Akira replies.

Ann hits Ryuji's shoulder. "Don't be dumb, why would the guy give Akira a bomb, and then ask him to bring it back later?"

"What if he never planned on you bringing it back?" Ryuji asks. "What if he planned on blowing you up in your house?"

Akira's eyes drift back towards his bag. "D-don't be ridiculous. Why would an Airsoft store owner want to blow up a high school student?"

Ryuji throws his hands into the air. "Crazy people don't need reasons to do things, man! Speaking of which, why the hell are you carrying whatever it is around?"

Ann frowns. "Yeah, that's a good point. You probably shouldn't have kept that in your bag."

Akira shrugs. "Well, I didn't want Sojiro to find it. And I don't have anywhere else I could've hidden it."

Ryuji shakes his head. "That's it, I'm coming with you after this."

"What? Why?" Akira asks.

"To make sure you don't get blown up or something."

"Uh, Ryuji," Morgana says. "If it's a bomb, you'll just get blown up too."

"It's _not_ a bomb," Akira growls.

Ann spreads her hands. "Whatever. The point is, you're getting rid of it soon, right?" Akira nods. "And you're gonna get the burner phones too?" Akira nods again. "Fine. So, you're going to call that Ohya person when you do? Are you sure you don't want to wait until after exams?"

Akira shakes his head. "If the Phantom Thieves are students, they would stop their activities during exams. If the Phantom Thieves continue their activities during exam seasons, it would imply they aren't students."

Ann frowns. "Yeah, or they could all be terrible students like Ryuji."

"Hey," the blonde boy spits. "You're not exactly top of your class either. You only ever do well in English and that's because you speak it!"

Akira sigh, sets his cup down and slides his glasses up to his forehead with his fingers. As he rubs his eyes he grumbles, "I know the plan isn't perfect. But I'm doing the best that I can."

Ann reaches across the table and rests a hand on his forearm. "Hey, we know that. And you're doing a great job!"

_Am I?_

"But," she says, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. "Don't think you're the only one working hard. I might just have an 'in' with Madarame."

Akira straightens.

"For real?" Ryuji asks.

"You're amazing, Lady Ann," Morgana sputters. "What is it?"

Ann holds up an index finger and shakes it back and forth. "Uh-uh, it's a secret. For now."

Akira frowns. "Not to be a downer, but we really shouldn't keep secrets from one another." Ann's eyes snap towards his own, and Akira recoils from the look. Her gaze isn't angry, so much as inquisitive. "What?" He asks.

She looks away. "It's nothing. I just don't want to get everyone's hopes up. I think I may have something. I should know soon. I promise it's not going to come back to hurt us. But if it falls through, I don't want us to plan around it."

Akira nods. "But if you tell us now, we can start to plan for it, even if it doesn't happen."

"Hey," Ryuji says, patting the air with his hands. "Come on, man. Let's let Ann do her thing. I'm sure she's got this."

Akira glances from one blonde to the other. _Sometimes I can't even with these two_. He holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine. When will you know if your... thing, I guess, is a go or not?"

"Should be in the next few days. I'll let you know as soon as I hear." When Akira opens his mouth, she nods rapidly. "I know, I know. In person. Not over the phone or through text or email. Okay?"

"Okay," Akira says, nodding. "Sorry. It's just that I’m still rattled from the last few days."

"But we went over it already, dude," Ryuji says. "I don't think we missed anything. Mishima did great pretending to be me." He beams. "He even had my walk down."

"But seriously," Ann says. "No more splitting up for Mementos runs, okay? That fight was hard without you.”

"I know," Akira replies. "Trust me, in the future, we'll start these plans well in advance. We won't split up again."

"Okay, okay," Morgana says, shaking his head. "Get back to studying. Your exams start tomorrow!"

Ryuji drops his head back into his textbook. "Don't remind me."

#

The flier is in the window.

Together, Akira and Ryuji step inside, and a cold burst of air greets them.

The manager, with his feet propped up, once again, on the counter, sees them and straightens. "You got it?" He asks. Akira nods. The man stands and kneels beneath the counter, and returns with the detector from the other day.

"Again?" Akira asks, and glances around the store. There are no other customers.

"Again," the man says, and makes his way over to them. He passes the paddle over their bodies until he's satisfied, then takes his place back behind the counter.

"That was weird," Ryuji mutters.

The man glances over at the blonde boy and says, "Great. You're back."

Akira unzips his bag and pulls out the small, wrapped bundle. Morgana stares up at him from inside, and flashes Akira his typical _'be careful'_ face.

He sets it on the counter, and slides it over to the manager.

The man looks down at it, then asks, "Did you open it?"

Akira shakes his head. "No."

"Smart."

"Is it a bomb?" Ryuji asks, and Akira shuts his eyes and lets out a long exhale of breath.

The man smirks, and pulls the object off the counter and slides it out of sight. "Sure. Why not?"

Ryuji’s eyes widen. "For real?"

The man looks at Akira. "Do you really hang out with this kid?"

Akira shrugs. "Do you have the stuff I asked for?"

The man nods towards the rows of guns behind the two boys. "Go pick something out, and come back when you're done."

Akira and Ryuji spend some time examining all the various weapons, and both settle on deadlier-looking versions of the guns they already possessed. They bring the chosen models over to the manager, who snidely proclaims that he’ll box them right away, and disappears into the back office.

He returns moments later. "Phones are tucked inside. Typed up some instructions for you too." He slides the boxes over to them, and Akira yanks out the bills from his wallet and hands them over. "Nice doin' business with you, kid."

"Will you give me your name now?" Akira asks.

"Munehisa Iwai," the man grunts.

"Akira Kurusu.”

"Didn't ask," Iwai says. "We done here, or do you have something else weird to sell me?"

#

Makoto peers around the corner, at the neon sign of 'Untouchable.' _What are they doing in there?_

She glances down at the open notebook in her hand, which she has cleverly - she thinks - hidden within the open pages of a larger manga.

Time stamps, followed by brief descriptions dot the page.

_Target enters diner with Takamaki and Sakamoto._

_Target exits diner. Takamaki goes on alone, Sakamoto appears to accompany target._

_Target and Sakamoto enter weird store, 'Untouchable.'_

A quick search online had shown her the profile of the airsoft shop. She'd no idea Akira and Sakamoto were model gun enthusiasts. _I wonder if the store carries a model of a Ruger Redhawk?_ Of course, it sure seemed strange that two boys, in the middle of exam season, would spend their afternoon in a store like that.

_Stranger than me spending my time tracking them?_

Makoto sighs, and leans against the brick wall of the building she's hiding behind.

_What am I even doing?_

Between the meeting with Takanashi and the exams, Makoto had hardly had a moment to think all day. When she'd seen the group of three friends leave Shujin, she'd just started following them.

When they got off the train in Shibuya, she's followed them.

When they'd gone into the diner, she'd run back down the block to the bookstore, purchased a manga in which to hide her notebook, and staked out a spot across the street.

What was her endgame here?

She was so certain that Akira Kurusu was a Phantom Thief. So certain, and yet...

She didn't know for sure. She had a hunch, a feeling. So far, all the evidence lined up with the hypothesis that he was a Phantom Thief, and behind the recent changes in heart, but she needed real, solid proof.

_I just want to know_ , she tells herself.

The door to the shop jingles open and Akira and Sakamoto step outside. Each has a black, plastic bag in their hand, holding a boxy-like shape.

_Did they actually buy models?_ She had assumed they'd been up to something shady inside, but maybe they really just were enthusiasts.

A sudden thought crystalizes in her mind. She should go up to them, and tell them everything. Tell them about the Principal, about Sae telling him off, about her seeing right through their plan to trick her.

She takes a half-step out from around the corner, and then stops.

_Why had they tried to trick her? Why hadn't Akira just come to her and been honest?_

As they head towards her hiding place, Makoto retreats further down the alley, towards Central Street. By the time they turn off towards Shibuya Station, she's blended in with the crowds, manga held up and over her face. As they walk, she falls in step a good distance behind them, logs the time in her notebook and write, _Target exits 'Untouchable,' appears to approach Shibuya Station._

_I have to know,_ she thinks. _And once I do, I'll know what to do._

#

'Rafllesia,' the sign says. A middle aged woman stands behind the register, smiling and bowing at mall patrons as they walk by. The storefront is ornamented with dozens of bright, healthy looking flowers. Makoto doesn't even know the name of some of them. She stands at a kiosk a short distance away, eyes flickering from its assorted wares, back to the flower shop, again and again.

She had followed Akira, after he'd split off from Sakamoto, into the Shibuya Underground. But then, he had walked into this flower shop, opened a door near the back - as if he belonged there - and disappeared inside.

_Could this flower shop be a front? Is it the secret headquarters of the Phantom Thieves?_

The door to the back opens, and Makoto stiffens. Akira Kurusu steps out. He no longer wears his school uniform, but a pair of jeans, and a long-sleeved beige shirt, over which hangs a dark green apron.

_What_.

Did Akira Kurusu actually _work_ at this flower shop?

She runs over her previous conversations with him. Never once did he mention something like this. He _had_ cited a 'job' once, when he'd snatched up 'The Biology of Shrimp' from the library, but that had just been...

Well, that had just been weird.

Akira moves up alongside the middle-aged woman, and begins to mimic her movements. He bows to potential customers, a smile on his face.

_He looks...nice_.

Then, a girl steps out of the back room.

She is dressed in dusty overalls, and a baseball cap. She walks up to Akira, smiles up into his face, and begins to chat.

Akira looks down at her, grins, and starts to speak as well.

Thunder rattles inside Makoto's mind.

Just who was...

Wait.

Makoto narrows her eyes and stares.

"Haru Okumura?" She asks no one.

She focuses as hard as she can, and realizes with a start that this girl _is_ Haru Okumura.

_Why would the daughter of Okumura Foods' CEO be working at a flower shop?_

She begins to cycle through a number of scenarios.

Was she a runaway?

Had she been disowned, in some way?

Did she not want to be a part of the family business?

Was she a Phantom Thief?

Makoto blinks. Haru Okumura, a Phantom Thief? No, that was crazy. Her name hadn't been in the Principal's file.

_But so what? My name was in the file, and I'm not a Phantom Thief_.

Customers of the flower shop begin to arrive, and Makoto checks the time. It's getting late. She still wants to properly prep for tomorrow's tests. _Okay_ , she thinks. _Haru Okumura. That's another lead._ Makoto watches the two help customers for a few more minutes. Then, she leaves.

#

Ohya lifts the empty glass into the smoky air. "Lala-chan! Another one please!"

Lala Escargot looks down her nose at the ruby-cheeked reporter and says, "I would say you've had enough but-"

Ohya cuts her off. "You know I'll just keep pestering you!"

Lala-chan nods and snatches the empty whiskey glass from Ohya's hand. “Just take it easy, yeah?"

Ohya grins. "Oh, Lala-chan, you are simply the best!" Lala grabs a bottle of whisky off the bar’s rack, and pours. When she sets the drink down in front of her, Ohya raises it with reverence, brings it to her lips, and takes a smooth sip.

Her phone vibrates. She rips it from her pocket and checks the caller ID. "Unknown number?" Ohya asks, then rolls her eyes. "Great." She brings it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Is this Ichiko Ohya, the reporter?" The voice is low, but unfiltered. It sounds like someone trying to disguise their voice and doing a bad job of it.

"Uh-huh. And let me guess, you've got a hot tip?"

The voice on the other end hesitates. "Um, well, actually, I'd like to speak with you about something. Or rather, _someone_."

"You know, you don't have to keep talking like that. I already don't know who you are."

The voice coughs, and sounds a bit more normal when it picks back up. "Right, well, could we set up a meeting?”

“About who?”

“I’d rather not discuss it over the phone.”

Ohya lets out a sigh. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. To be honest, this one went through some heavy revisions. In the game, the exams were these annoying sequences where you weren't allowed to do anything besides take a test. Here, it feels like I'm trying to squeeze as much in as possible, lol.
> 
> Anyway, I'll see you all on Friday! Thanks for understanding about the post decrease, and if I haven't gotten to your comment/review yet, I will as soon as I can!


	35. Someone to Talk To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say 3 AM Crimson update!?
> 
> No?
> 
> Oh.
> 
> Well, I'm kinda drunk. So, here it is. Enjoy!

5/11

Makoto taps the tip of her pencil against the page. _Now that the volleyball team is all but disbanded, the budget for the club could be broken up and dispersed to some of the other ones_.

The question was, which ones? No other clubs at Shujin had garnered as much prestige as Kamoshida's volleyball club, but there were a few promising candidates.

 _Maybe this time, we focus on a more academic or artistic one_. The art club, perhaps? The drama club? Last year, the latter had been on a production of The Tempest, and it had been... acceptable.

"Umm... Niijima-senpai?" Comes a voice.

"Just a moment," Makoto replies, not looking up. A lot of numbers dance before her eyes, but this is just like any other problem. All it requires is time, and a steady application of willpower.

 _Perhaps a budget cut from all the sports clubs would be possible? None of them are really doing that well at the moment_. Certainly, that wasn't their fault. Kamoshida had insisted on a heavy slice of the funds for his team, so the rest of Shujin's sports clubs had been grossly underfunded. Still, a steady slash across the board would ensure no one felt singled out. Of course, that decision wouldn't leave her the most popular girl at school. _Not that I am, anyway_.

She hears feet shifting near the door, and sighs. The boy has sweated enough, and she's not going to get any real, deep work done with him bugging out right next to her.

Makoto sets her pencil down and pushes the budget paperwork aside. Then, she glances up at the student she called into the Council room ten minutes ago.

"Thank you for waiting, Mishima-kun."

Yuuki Mishima flashes her a shaky smile, but his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and his eyes don't quite meet hers. "N-no problem, Niijima-senpai."

She cocks her head to one side. "Are you nervous? There's no reason to be."

"Sorry, it's just early," he manages without stammering. "And, uh, exams start today."

Makoto nods, and lets out a sigh. "That is true. I trust you're prepared. You always seem to do well, yes?"

"I guess so. I feel like I studied enough." He cracks a small smile. "I had a lot more time, now that the volleyball isn't practicing anymore."

"Right, of course. I actually wanted to ask about that," she says, and gestures to the seat across from her.

Mishima hesitates before making his way over to the chair, and slumping down into it before apparently remembering who he is sitting with, and straightening.

Makoto folds her hands together and asks, "How are you, Mishima-kun?"

"Um, fine?"

"You sound unsure."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine, really. Thanks for asking."

"I know this is a difficult topic, but I understand that you were abused at the hand of Kamoshida. I wanted to make sure that, with him gone, you're able to have a normal school life."

Mishima's eyes fall to the hardwood table. "It's not like I was the only one he hurt. You know what he did to Shiho."

 _Yes, Suzui. I may have to visit her soon_. "I do, but I wanted to make sure that _you_ were doing well."

"I'm fine," Mishima says, still not meeting her eyes.

"Alright then."

Mishima blinks. "That's it?" He asks.

Makoto does her best to look puzzled. "Did you think there would be something more?"

"I just... there's nothing you wanted to ask me?"

"About what?"

"Nothing!" Mishima blurts. He stands. "So, um, can I go now?"

"Of course," Makoto says, and gestures towards the door. "Good luck on your exams."

"Th-thanks," Mishima says, as he backs away. "You too. Not that you'll need it, you're so smart, everyone knows that." He bumps into the still shut door. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll go now. Bye, Niijima-senpai!" He opens the door, bolts out, and slams it shut again.

Makoto sits in the room, alone. _Well. He knows something_.

#

Ann spins around in her chair and groans, "Akirrrraaaaaaa," and slumps over onto his desk.

Akira blinks. "Yes, Ann?"

"Do me a favor. Open the window, and throw me out. I don't want to take these exams!"

Akira shrugs and stands. "If you insist."

He begins to fiddle with the window, and Ann grabs his arm and yanks him back down into his chair. "I wasn't serious!"

"Oh."

She laughs and shakes her head. "This isn't fair. You don't seem nervous at all."

"I'm pretty confident I'll do well, actually," he says.

Ann leans forward a bit, trying to sneak a glance into his desk. "You're just gonna have Morgana give you the answers."

"First of all," Akira says, sliding away from his desk and gesturing to the empty space beneath it. "Mona's not even here. Second, he's a cat, not an encyclopedia."

"Where is he?"

"He said he'd be bored sitting in my desk all week, so I sent him to keep an eye on the Principal."

Ann nods. "Oh. That was smart. Still, I literally wish we were about to do _anything_ else right now."

The door to their classroom opens, and Mishima darts inside. His eyes snap to them, and he shoves his way across the floor and over to them. "Guys, we've got a problem!" Mishima whispers, loudly.

A number of gazes drift over to the three of them.

Through his smile, Akira mutters, "Chill out, man. I _told_ you, not here."

Mishima's eyes widen and he stiffens. "Oh, right. But, like, this is seriously a bad thing."

"Keep it down," Ann whispers, looking around. "What happened?"

"Niijima-senpai called me into the Student Council Room," he says. "She asked me if I was doing okay, since the whole Kamoshida thing."

"And what did you say?" Akira asks.

"I told her I was fine."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"So, what's the problem?"

Mishima looks from Akira to Ann and back again. "Well, it's like you said, she's _investigating_ us."

"Mishima," Akira growls. "We _know_ that already."

"Right, but she's actually doing it!"

Akira shuts his eyes and tries to keep the smile fixed on his face. "So, your big important news is that the girl we know is investigating us, is investigating us?" _She probably just brought him into the room to freak him out and see if he'd spill anything. She probably doesn't believe that we'd ever confide in this kid_. His smile shifts into a real one. _She thinks I'm too smart for that. God, I wish I was_.

"W-well," Mishima says. "Don't you think it's weird that she called me in?"

Ann frowns. "Yuuki-kun, we told you that that might happen."

"I know," Mishima replies. "But I heard she did the same thing to Daisuke Takanashi yesterday."

This shakes Akira up a bit. _Could he have given her some information that would hurt us?_ He racked his brain. _I don't think so..._ The card had been delivered by Morgana, and Ryuji had worn gloves when he'd handled it beforehand. The Phantom Thieves hadn't gone anywhere near the boy during the days of his operation. Ryuji and Ann had run into him last Friday, but that was it. _I think we're good there_.

The door to the classroom opens one more time, and Kawakami-sensei steps inside. "Alright, everyone stop praying, it's exam time." She looks over at Akira and the others. "Mishima-kun, I trust you won't be taking your tests standing there, yes?"

"R-right," Mishima replies. "Sorry, Kawakami-sensei." He dashes off to his seat.

Akira watches him retreat. _I really need to learn what I can from that kid, then cut him loose._

#

"Pencils down."

Makoto complies, and leans back in her chair. _Exactly as planned_. There were no topics she hadn't studied for. The questions had been familiar and easy to answer. She allows herself a solitary moment to feel relief, then snaps her mind back to attention. There are still several more days of exams, and she has another mission today.

She slides out of her seat as her classmates begin to converse amongst themselves. Nodding at each as she passes them, she approaches the back of the class and stops alongside one particular student's desk.

Haru Okumura looks up at Makoto and smiles. "Afternoon, Niijima-chan. How do you think you did?"

Makoto returns the smile and says, "Well, thank you, Okumura-chan. I was actually wondering if you were free this afternoon."

Haru blinks. "Oh. Um, yes, I am."

"I see. Would you like to study for tomorrow's tests together?"

Haru's face brightens, and Makoto feels her stomach twist. "I would love to!" The girl declares, and stands. "Should we go to the library?"

 _No. Not here. Not where Akira might see me_. "Actually, there's a cafe in Shibuya, and-"

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Haru spins around and snatches up her bag. When she turns back, and Makoto sees the look in her eyes, she feels her own smile flicker. "Shall we?"

"Yes," Makoto says. "Let's."

They leave Shujin unimpeded, take a short ride to Shibuya, and find their way to the cafe. As they traveled, Haru had chatted incessantly about today's exam.

Where she thinks she did well.

Where she thinks she didn't do too well.

Where she thinks she could've improved.

They sit down, and Makoto pulls a few books from her bag and sets them on the table. Haru does the same and says, "So, I was thinking we could start with calculus. I'm afraid it's my weakest subject and..."

Makoto hardly hears her. _I got her here. Now what?_ How to broach this topic?

"Are you alright?" Haru asks. The question brings Makoto back to reality.

"I'm sorry?"

Haru frowns. "It's just, you haven't really said anything for a while. Not since we left school. Are you okay?" She leans forward and whispers, "Are _you_ worried about the exams?"

"No," Makoto replies, shaking her head. "That's not it."

"Then what's wrong, Mako-chan?" Haru asks.

 _Mako-chan?_ Screw it. What else can she do? "Okumura-chan, I-"

"Please, call me Haru," Haru insists.

Makoto trips over the breach, but complies. "Well, um, Haru, the truth is, I was at Shibuya Underground last night."

Haru looks at her, frowning, and Makoto watches as the girl's eyes widen. "Oh. I see." She glances down at the tabletop. "Is that why you asked me here? Because you saw me working at Raffelsia?"

"I guess," Makoto stammers, fumbling over her words. "I guess I was just wondering why the daughter of Okumura Foods' CEO is working at a flower shop in the mall."

Haru doesn't say anything for a long time.

"Forgive me, Niijima-chan," Haru finally replies. "But I fail to see how that is any of your business." She does not meet Makoto's eyes, but there is an undercurrent of defiance in her voice, something Makoto is shocked to hear from the typically reserved girl.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Perhaps," Haru says, and begins to slide her books off the table. "It would be best if we studied separately. Good luck on your exams."

"Wait," Makoto says, reaching out and grabbing Haru's forearm. The girl halts. She doesn't move. She doesn't breathe. She simply sits and looks at Makoto's hand on her arm. Makoto lets go and stutters out an, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." _What was that?_ "I wasn't snooping, I swear. I was..." How to salvage this? What would be a believable excuse for Makoto Niijima to be at the Raffelsia flower shop, but not approach? Makoto hardly ever went to Shibuya Underground anyway. What would bring here there?

It hits her. The truth. Or, a version of it. "I was following someone." _Crap! That makes me sound like a serial killer!_

"Following someone?" Haru asks. Her voice still holds that edge, but she relaxes a bit in her chair.

Makoto nods. "I saw him go down into Shibuya Underground and I thought I might see what he was doing, and then-"

Haru gasps. Makoto jumps a bit at the noise. The former's eyes are even wider, and her hands are gripped beneath her chin. "Are you talking about Akira-kun?"

Makoto stares at her. _Well, I suppose I was leading to that question, but she was quick on the uptake_. "Yes."

Haru's mouth spreads into a smile. "I see. You were _following_ him, is that right?"

 _What's with that tone?_ "W-well, I noticed him and-"

"You _noticed_ him, huh?"

"That's... what are you doing?"

"You know, I never asked. How did you like your gift?"

Makoto stares at her. "What gift?"

"The one Akira put in your desk."

Makoto's jaw has never dropped before. It does now. "Wha-? How do you know about that?"

Haru giggles. "Who do you think told him which one was yours?"

"Y-you?"

"Me!" Haru's voice drops a few octaves. "It was so cute. He came in, all nervous, and didn't notice me until I spoke up. Then he asked me which desk was yours."

"B-but wait, what about the flower shop?"

Haru frowns. "Listen, promise not to tell anyone I work there. I don't want people to spread rumors about me or my family."

Makoto is a bit taken aback. "Yes, of course. I would never do something like that."

Haru stares at her, and after a few moments, nods, satisfied. "To be honest, it was a complete coincidence. I had only started to work at the flower shop a week before Akira-kun began there. It was after I saw him put the gift in your desk. By the way, what was it?"

"A pencil case," Makoto says, and gestures to the Buchimaru case that's been sitting alongside her book this entire time. "This one, actually."

"Oh, it's so cute!"

"Th-thanks. So, you just happen to work with him?"

Haru nods. "That's right. We've worked together for a few weeks now. We're friends."

"Oh."

Haru's eyes widen once more, which seems to be a habit for the girl. "Wait a minute. You were following Akira-kun last night. You saw him at the flower shop, but you didn't approach him, and you saw me working there. I know why you asked me to study with you today!"

Makoto wants to swallow, but her throat is dry. "You do?"

Haru nods enthusiastically. "Yes! You want to ask me about him."

 _Am I that transparent?_ "Well, that is true, but-"

"You want to ask _me_ about him so _you_ can ask him out!"

Makoto's jaw drops open again, for the second time in her life. "Huh?"

#

"Excuse me?" The waitress asks.

Ann and Akira look up at her. "Yes?" Ann asks.

"Is your friend alright?"

She is referring to Ryuji, who has his head plopped down on the diner's table, eyes shut, and mouth hanging open, with a small trail of drool beginning to form.

"Oh, yeah," Ann says. "He's fine. It's just that today was the first day of exams, and he's kind of a moron."

Ryuji sits up, knife straight, eyes ablaze. "Am not!"

"See?" Ann asks. The waitress smiles and walks away.

"Were you even listening?" Morgana growls from his spot in Akira's bag.

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuji replies, shifting lower in his seat. His eyes fall to his books. "How're you guys even still studying? We took tests all day!"

"Yeah," Akira says. "And we've got a few more days of them."

Ryuji throws his head into his hands. "I know. Man, I'm so screwed."

"We weren't talking about that!" Morgana hisses. "I was saying that I hung outside the Principal's window all morning, but he didn't do anything suspicious. Well, I guess he did look kind of nervous, but he didn't mention anything about us."

Ann nods. "Good job, Morgana."

"Yeah, but so what?" Ryuji asks. "We know the Principal suspects us, and that Niijima's looking at us." He nods towards Akira. "Did you see her today?"

Akira shakes his head. "No. I don't know where she is. I didn't text her either. Hopefully she's just using the time to focus on exams." He looks over at Ann. "So, are you ready to tell us about your mysterious 'in' with Madarame yet?"

Ann blushes a bit. "Well, no. Not yet. But I should know soon, I promise!" Akira's phone vibrates and he takes it from his pocket. Ann rolls her eyes. "That's probably Makoto now.  'Oh, Akira, we haven't sent passive aggressive texts to one another in so long that I'm going through withdraw!'"

Ryuji snickers and holds out a fist for Ann to bump. She does.

Akira pales when he sees the message. "Damn."

"Who is it?" Morgana asks.

 _I was hoping I could just ignore this away, but looks like I can't_. He turns the phone around so Morgana can see, then shows it to the others.

**_TAKEMI_ ** _: It's been a while. Drop by for a checkup. I've got some new medicine I'd like you to try._

Ryuji frowns. "The Doc? Haven't heard from her in the while."

"Aren't you going to see that reporter tonight?" Ann asks.

Akira nods, and types out a response.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: I can't today. I've got exams, so I've got to study._

Barely ten seconds pass before he gets another response.

**_TAKEMI_ ** _: You seem to be under the impression that I was asking._

"I really need to do something about the women in my life," Akira mutters.

"What was that?" Ann asks, eyes narrow.

"Nothing!"

#

Akira takes a sniff of the vial. An aroma not unlike overripe fruit shoves its way up his nostrils. "Like I said, I've got exams. This isn't going to make me pass out, is it?"

Takemi sits in her swivel chair, and smiles. "It shouldn't. I've switched up the formula since you last took some. No promises, though."

"Any chance we could push this to the weekend?"

"I need results, and you need to uphold our deal. Two way street, remember? You don't get to skimp out on your end because it's inconvenient for you."

Akira frowns, opens his mouth, and tosses back the medicine. It doesn't so much burn, but tickles his throat as it goes down. He smacks his lips a few times and runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth. "Not bad, I guess."

"This isn't a soda tasting contest," Takemi replies. "How do you feel?"

Akira sits still for a few moments. "Fine."

"No adverse reactions?" He shakes his head. She glances down at her clipboard. "That's not good."

"Wait, what?"

She smirks and looks up at him. "Kidding." Akira sighs. "So, how are your exams going?"

Akira leans back on his elbows. "Today wasn't too bad. Ask me again in a few days."

"Not stressing about them? I suppose that's a good sign. Young people these days always seem like they're one bad grade away from a heart attack."

Akira rolls his eyes. "I wish I had that problem."

Takemi doesn't reply, save to stare at him for a few moments, lips pursed, brow furrowed. "Kurusu," she finally says. "Have you found a therapist yet?"

Akira blinks. "Huh?"

She lets out a frustrated huff and tosses her clipboard onto the table. "I knew it," she says, standing. "You haven't even looked, have you?"

"I-" Akira starts, then stops. Had it really been almost two weeks since he'd watched that man die in the hotel's bathroom? "I've been busy. I've had to prepare for exams, and-"

"Don't," Takemi says, shaking her head. "Don't treat me like an idiot."

"What're you-"

"I've seen the website, Kurusu."

Akira knows he hesitates for too long before he asks, "What website?"

Takemi enunciates each syllable when she replies, "The PhanSite." Akira doesn't say anything. Takemi nods. "So it's not just going to stop with that teacher then? You're taking _requests_ now? Are you insane? After everything that happened to you with that Kamoshida bastard, I would've thought you'd hang up your... your... well, your whatever, and call it quits." She spreads her hands, placating. "What are you thinking?"

Akira listens to her tirade, and when she finishes, he sits back up and focuses his gaze on the linoleum floor. "I don't want to lie to you," he finally says. "So, can I just say nothing?"

Takemi scowls. "Are you serious?"

Akira's mouth opens a fraction, then closes again. He repeats this action, each time looking to be on the verge of saying something, but unable to locate the words.

Then his phone beeps. His other appointment is fast approaching. "I have to go," he says, and pushes himself off the exam table. He holds up his hands, the backs of them to her. "My skin feels a bit tingly."

Takemi takes his hands in hers and examines them. "That's just a flush. Nothing to worry about." She holds his hands longer than she needs to. "Kurusu, just stop. I don't know what you did, or how you did it, but that sick son of a bitch is going to jail. You beat him. So just stop, and _take care_ of yourself."

Akira slides his hands out of hers. "When I've got the time, I'll look for a therapist."

"You promised me that before."

"I know. Just-"

"Trust you?"

Akira nods.

"Like our deal, trust is a two way street. So. Akira Kurusu, are you a Phantom Thief?"

Akira looks at her for a long time before he responds.

#

Ohya sits at the bar of Crossroads, more sober than she would like. _Where the hell is this guy?_

Sure, more times than not, these shady folk with 'insider information' never showed, but that didn't mean she appreciated being stood up.

"You look more concerned than usual," Lala Escargot says, sliding up alongside her.

Ohya nods, frowning. "I've got a hunch, Lala-chan."

Lala rolls her eyes. "You always say that."

"Yeah," Ohya replies. "But I've only had one drink tonight. The less I've had to drink, the more accurate the hunch is."

"Is that the science of journalism?"

She grins. "Nope. Just my own personal formula."

"Well, be careful," Lala tells her, and slips her a glass of water. "Just in case."

"Always am," Ohya says, as Lala begins to walk away.

"No you're not," Lala shouts back.

The door to the bar opens and a young, slim figure slides his way inside. Ohya runs her eyes over him. _Sweatshirt in May. Baseball cap on under a hood_. This was her guy. She stares at him until he notices her doing so, and she nods towards the empty barstool alongside her.

With his hands deep in his pockets, he starts to move through the gloomy bar towards her.

Ohya's eyes widen as he gets closer. _He's young. Very young. Wait, is he a teenager?_

"Ichiko Ohya?" He asks. His voice is deep, but not that of an adult.

"How old are you?" She asks. This is not her typical first question, but it's the only one she can think of.

"Does that-" He starts, but then she reaches out, and shoves back his hood. He jumps back in surprise, but she's too fast, and swats the hat off his head.

"Oh, goddammit," Ohya groans, rolling her eyes. "You _are_ just a kid." He pales by such a degree that Ohya can even see it in the dim light of Crossroads. He bends over and snatches up his hat. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"N-no," he says, and sits down on the stool alongside her. "It's not."

Ohya sighs and spins back to the bar. "Hey, Lala-chan! I'll take another drink after all."

"What about your hunch?" Lala calls from the other side.

Ohya sticks out her thumb towards the kid. "Looks like I need a new formula."

Lala nods and ducks down below the bar.

"Um," the kid says, but Ohya turns a glare towards him and cuts him off.

"So, what's your hot tip? Is there a cheating problem in your school? Are the teachers mean?"

"Actually," the young man says. "I was told to contact you."

"By who?" Ohya asks. Lala returns and sets another drink down in front of her.

The boy stares at Lala as she heads back down the bar.

"You have a problem?" Ohya asks, an edge to her voice.

"No," he replies, quickly.

"Well, don't stare. It's rude. Now, hurry up and tell me who told you to call me."

"Nakanohara Natsuhiko."

Ohya spins through her mental rolodex. _Nakanohara. Definitely sounds familiar. Wasn't he some creepy clerk I talked to a couple of months ago? Why was that again? Oh, yeah! The artist!_ She looks over at the kid in a new light. " _He_ told you to talk to me? Why?"

"He said you might have some information on a person I'm looking into."

"And that would be?" Ohya asks.

"Ichiryusai Madarame."

Ohya stalls to think, by slowly picking up her drink and bringing it to her lips. As the whiskey pours down her throat, she recalls everything she had learned about that creep. _So, who is this kid? Another apprentice?_ "What's your relation with Madarame?"

The kid wets his lips with his tongue before answering. "I'm concerned about him."

"Concerned?"

"Concerned."

"About what?"

"Well... I don't think he's such a great, um, guy."

Ohya sets her drink down. "Do you have anything to tell me or not?" When the kid stares at her, she shakes her head. "Wow. You didn't think any of this through, did you? What'd you expect? That you could just sit down here and I would spill whatever I know to you? Look kid, if you don't have any information on Madarame, you can beat it. I'm not in the habit of giving something for nothing."

"Nakanohara Natsuhiko said you were the person to talk to if I wanted to learn more about Madarame," the kid protests.

Ohya takes another sip. "Yeah? Well, I'll be sure to thank him for giving out my number to a know nothing juvenile. If you can't give me any information, and you can't _help_ , then I've got nothing to say."

The kid turns his gaze away from her, and sinks in on himself. "I can help, actually," he says, so low she can barely hear him over the smooth music drifting from the jukebox in the corner.

"Oh yeah? How so?" She peers down into the kid's face. His eyes are flicking back and forth, rapidly.

"What if I give you something else? Something you can use for another story? Would you give me information on Madarame then?"

She shrugs. "Depends on what you know. I try not to cross the streams, so to speak."

"Suguru Kamoshida," the kid says.

Ohya blinks, and thinks. _Former Olympian. Rapist. Gym Teacher. What was the school? Shujin Academy._ "What about him?"

"I can give you information about him. What he was like. Maybe," and here he pauses, and a pained look crosses his face, "maybe I could even get you interviews with his victims."

Ohya mulls this over. Kamoshida's victims, being minors, were kept out of the papers, but that didn't mean other journalists hadn't tried to pry their names and faces out of the dirt and into the limelight.

She shakes her head. "No thanks. Kamoshida is old news. He confessed, what? Two, three weeks ago? This is 2016, kid. The world spins on. They should teach you that at Shujin."

His eyes go wide. "How'd you know where I go to school?"

Ohya groans and rubs her temples. "Kid, _come on_. Who else would have dirt on Kamoshida? And don't ever just _confirm_ something someone says about you, by asking how they know about it!"

The kid turns red. "Right." Then he nods. "Okay, then. What if I give you information on something else? Something new? Something that hasn't been picked up on, yet?"

Ohya cracks a grin and slaps his arm. "Ooooh, look at you. You've actually managed to pique my interest. Don't disappoint me now. What is this 'something new?'"

"The Phantom Thieves."

Ohya's smile drops. "The Phantom Thieves," she repeats. He nods. "You're joking, right?"

His brows rise. "No. I'm not."

"Kid, the Phantom Thieves are nothing but an urban legend. They don't exist. _Maybe_ there was a group that blackmailed or forced that Kamoshida jackass to confess, and tried to be all picaresque about it with that calling card, but even if that were true, they were nothing but a couple of teenagers with a grudge."

"Haven't you seen the website?"

"You mean the 'PhanSite?'" Ohya asks. "No. I haven't. Because I actually have a job. And my job doesn't let me waste time on the Internet."

Lala walks by. "No. You just waste time here, instead."

Ohya sticks out her tongue. "Is this how you talk to your best customer?"

"You're not my best customer," Lala replies, beaming. "You're just the loudest."

"You're so mean, Lala-chan!"

"The Phantom Thieves are real."

She turns back to the kid. He has his phone out, and is holding it up so she can see the screen.

Ohya's eyes dance across it. _What the hell is this? A 'Request?' And that's... Nakanohara's name._ "What is this?"

"It's the PhanSite. Nakanohara was stalking his ex-girlfriend. She requested that the Phantom Thieves change his heart. They did."

Ohya looks at the kid one more time. He seems _different_ than just a few moments ago. She can't put her finger on it, but he no longer appears to be the bumbling neophyte. _When did we stumble into his territory?_ "So, what exactly are you telling me?"

"You're a journalist, yeah?"

She nods. _Now, I'm answering his questions?_

"And you protect your sources?"

"Of course," she barks. "That's journalism one-oh-one, along with, tell the truth."

"Then, you won't repeat what I'm about to tell you, to anyone?"

"So long as you're not pulling my leg."

"Nakanohara put a request out on Madarame. For the Phantom Thieves to change his heart."

"How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

"Why would he tell you that?"

"Because he thought I was one of them."

Ohya stares. "Are you?"

The kid smiles and shakes his head. "I know the admin of the website. But even he doesn't know who the Phantom Thieves really are. Nakanohara was going to put it on the website, but because Madarame is such a huge name, he thought it best to keep it off the site. The Phantom Thieves were intrigued, so, the admin asked me to meet with Nakanohara, pretend I was a Phantom Thief, and get information on Madarame. Nakanohara gave me your name."

"That sounds suspiciously complicated."

The kid's mask falters a bit, but then he shakes his head. "It's the truth. So, there's your information. The Phantom Thieves are real. They're going to target Madarame. Want to help?"

"Why _not_ put Madarame's name on the website? It's not like he'd believe it."

The kid smiles. "The website will be set to private soon. As a way to protect identities. Soon, no one will be able to see the names. But, like I said, I know the admin. I could get you information off the site that no one else has."

Ohya is stuck. Something tells her that while this kid isn’t telling the whole truth, he’s not exactly lying either. “What’s your name?” She asks.

Then he smiles. It is something to behold. “Is that important?”

Ohya’s phone buzzes. She snatches it out of her pocket and reads the text message. “Sssshhhhiiiiitttt,” she moans.

“Something wrong?” The boy asks.

“I’ve got to go, the boss needs me.” She glares over at him. “So, let’s say, hypothetically, I believe you. How would I contact you?”

“Tell me a good time, and I’ll call you.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re not as inept as you look. This weekend. Anytime is fine.”

Ohya stands, but the boy turns towards her. “Hey, I gave you some information. How about you give me something?”

She turns back to look at him, frowning. “Hey, Lala-chan!” She calls. Lala turns and stares. Ohya points to her drink. “Put that on my tab.” Lala rolls her eyes, but nods. Then, Ohya leans in towards the boy. “I’ll give you a name. You connect the dots.” He stares at her, expectantly. “Yusuke Kitagawa.” Then, she turns and jogs out of the bar. _Don’t think I’m going to sit on this, kid. Next time we meet, I’ll know exactly who you are_.

#

She walks out the door and Akira lets his posture slip. _Oh my god, that was insane!_ The woman had been indefatigable. Battering him and hitting him from all sides, he had almost given up and just split. Giving her information about the Phantom Thieves? He had no idea how he was going to do that without giving away vital secrets. He had completely winged the whole ‘I know the admin’ thing.

Akira shakes his head. _And I’ve got exams tomorrow._

Faint music drifts through his ears, and a few hushed conversations catch his notice. He lets himself sit back and look around the interior of Crossroads bar. Velvet. Red. _Very_ odd decor. _Where the hell am I?_

A glass is set before him. He looks up into the face of the bartender. She smiles.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking down at the brown liquid.

“A drink. You look like you need one,” she replies.

“Um,” Akira replies. “Sorry, but I’m actually seventeen.”

“Yes, darling, I figured you were. That’s why this is a special drink.”

Akira lifts it up and looks closer. “What is it?”

“A Jack and Coke, minus the Jack,” she says. Akira remembers that Ohya had called her, Lala-chan.

“Wouldn’t that just make it a Coke?”

“Oh, you’re so smart!” She chuckles and leans her elbows against the counter. “Word to the wise, young man. Whatever scheme you’re concocting with that young lady, keep your head. She’s a good girl, a _great_ girl, but she skews towards drama and trouble.”

“Great, another one,” Akira says, and takes a sip of the soda.

“Another one?” Lala asks.

He shakes his head and waves his hand. “Oh, sorry. You wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Sweetie, I stand behind a bar all day and serve drinks, I hear everyone’s problems.” She glances down the length of the bar. “And it’s rather slow right now, sad to say. So, come on, tell Lala Escargot your troubles.”

He starts to smile. Then he stops. “I guess I just wish I knew what I was doing,” he says. _Why not? Where the hell am I, after all? What’s going to happen?_ “Every day, I just _react_. I keep trying to put things together but it never seems to work. Something out of left field happens, and then I have to react to that. All my friends keep relying on me, and I don’t know if I can meet their expectations. And there’s this girl…” He trails off.

“Ah, I see,” Lala Escargot says.

“Huh?” Akira asks.

“Well, obviously, you’re worried about all the things you just said, but what you’re _really_ concerned about is this girl. So, is she pretty?”

Akira looks at her for a long, hard moment. “I think she’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.”

“Wow,” Lala says, and throws back her head in a hearty laugh. “You’ve got it bad.”

Akira snickers and shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that.”

She slaps a drying rag down on the wooden bar. Akira jumps at the little _SNAP_ it makes. “Listen here, young man. I know a thing or two. And anyone who describes a woman as ‘the most amazing’ obviously has a thing for her. So, man up, and do something about it.”

“But I can’t!”

“And why not?”

Akira drops his head forward. “I don’t know if she’s on my side.”

“On your side?”

“It’s… complicated.”

She frowns. “Uh-huh. Well, look. Too many relationships either die before they can really start, or crash and burn, because the people aren’t _honest_ with each other. If you don’t know if she’s on your side or not, _ask her_. And tell her what you just told me.”

Akira takes one last swig of his soda. “You make is sound simple.”

“Honey, most things _are_ simple. It’s just that most people don’t think they should be simple, and make them more complicated.”

Akira laughs and then lets out a sigh. “You know, I actually feel better.”

Lala bows. “Then I’ve done my job as a bartender. Now, get going. It’s late. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s still exam season, is it not?”

Akira pales. “It is.”

Lala waves him away from the bar. “Well, scoot! Get moving! Don’t worry about the drink, I’ll make you a tab. What’s your name?”

“Akira Kurusu,” he says.

Lala grins. “And you can call me Lala Escargot, Akira Kurusu. Feel free to come back anytime and pay your tab. Now, get going. And be careful! Shinjuku is dangerous at night. If anyone gives you any trouble, you tell them that you’re a friend of mine, and they’ll back right the hell off!”

Akira agrees to do so, and leaves Crossroads, feeling a lot better than he had when he walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So, I might've had some Jack myself after class tonight. Hey, I got tomorrow off work! Let me say that you guys and gals are fabulous! I love having you guys as readers, and I love your comments! I hope you enjoyed this relatively long chapter, and I'll see you on Monday!


	36. Paths of Investigation

5/12

The diner pulses with the murmured conversations of exhausted students, spent salarymen, and worn waitresses with laminated smiles.

Akira sits in a stall, head tucked into the crook of his elbow. His eyes slide across his notes, but nothing gets past the retinas. "Morgana," he says. The name escapes his lips in a groan.

The cat perks up, rested from a day of doing nothing but monitoring the pudding Principal. "Nothing to report," he had said.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I need a favor." He tilts his head until the cat appears in his peripherals. "It may be the most important thing I've ever asked you."

Morgana's ears straighten, and he squirms out of the bag, arches his back and says, "I'm ready! Lay it on me!"

"I need you," Akira whispers, "to take tomorrow's exams for me."

Morgana's eyes narrow. His tail droops. "You suck."

Akira smiles. "It's vital, Mona. Think of the Phantom Thieves."

"I think I'm gonna smack you at three o'clock this morning, just to spite you."

He yawns. "Tests should be illegal. We should change the Minister of Education's heart. He's probably got a Palace, right?"

The cat wiggles in a shrug. "Use the app."

He shakes his head. "Too tired."

By the time he'd gotten home from Shinjuku, it had been late. Sojiro had gone home, and LeBlanc had been silent and dark. He'd gone to bed, but his mind had raced with the many conversations of the day. Especially Takemi's and Ohya's.

_Yusuke Kitagawa_.

Akira had no idea who that was.

He hadn't even gotten a chance to rendezvous with Ann or Ryuji, as he'd overslept and gotten to school late. Then, after the tests were finally done, Ann had left for a modeling gig, and Ryuji cited his mother's bad back, and took off to help her.

_I didn't even get a chance to tell them what I told Takemi_. He could've texted them, but the burner phone was for emergencies only, and a Phantom Thief text on their regular phones was a no-go.

He'd retreated to the diner, in an attempt to study. And a chance at brief normalcy. There were still more exam sessions to go. Ann still hadn't told him what her 'in' with Madarame was. And now he had these extra threads with Takemi and Ohya. _Maybe I should go back to Lala Escargot and just vent_. It sounded a lot better than reading about chemistry.

"Pssht," Morgana says.

"Huh?" Akira asks, turning his attention back to the cat. His friend is standing on his hind legs, eyes peeking over the top of stall's back. "What're you doing?"

"Am I crazy? Or is that Makoto?" Akira sits up, and starts to turn when Morgana swats his arm and hisses, "No, don't look!"

"How am I supposed to tell you if it's Makoto if I don't look?" Akira asks, eyes on the table.

"Just, I don't know, do it casually, like you're looking around!"

Akira lets his gaze drift up to the ceiling. Then he shifts around in his seat, as if basking in the strange decor of the diner.

"You're turning around too fast!"

"Oh, for God's sake," Akira blurts. "I'll just pretend I'm looking for the waitress!" He raises his hand, turns in his seat and runs his eyes over the room.

_There_.

Over by the stairs leading to the street. She sits at a table, a small teacup set before her. At least, Akira is pretty sure it’s Makoto. She wears a Shujin uniform, and he recognizes the top of her head. The rest of her is hidden behind an overlarge manga.

_What the-?_

The waitress comes over. Morgana slips back into the bag. Akira orders another coffee. The waitress leaves. Morgana pops his head out and stares up at Akira. Akira stares down at Morgana. "So, does she think she's _hiding_?" Akira asks.

"I don't know what she's doing. But that's a big book she's got."

He nods. "Yeah, it is." Then, he takes a moment, before he asks, "This is going to sound crazy, but do you think she's following us?"

"Like that?"

"I know. It's very..." Akira searches for the right way to put it, but can only settle on, "Not smooth."

"So, what'd we do?" Morgana asks.

Akira shrugs. "Why do we have to do anything? All I'm doing after this is going to the flower shop. If she wants to follow us, it might actually work in our favor." A frown breaks across his face. "Although, the fact that she's following us at all makes me worried. I know she called Mishima in yesterday, but I was hoping our little stunt from the other day would've fooled her."

"Well, we're not doing anything suspicious _today_ ," Morgana says. "But if she wasn’t tricked, and she keeps following us, eventually she’ll follow us on a day when we are doing something suspicious. Like, when we're going to Takemi's to get medicine. Or Iwai's to get... other stuff."

Morgana is right. Akira knows this. Something kicks through his veins. He's no longer slouched over. No longer tired. The gears in his mind start to turn.

"That _is_ a big book she’s got," Akira says.

"So?"

"So, I wonder if she's hiding anything in it."

#

Shibuya's Central Street and side alleys are the same cluttered mess they always are. The pedestrians schlep their way down the sidewalks, eyes dead ahead, or shifting along with the screens of their phones.

Makoto navigates these waters with her manga held open before her, small notebook tucked inside.

Akira had spent a significant amount of time in that diner, then, had promptly paid his bill, shouldered his bag, and left. She knows it's nearing the time he'll need to be at the flower shop, but he'd headed in the opposite direction, once outside.

She spies Akira a block or so ahead of her. He halts at the entrance to an alleyway, glances around, and ducks inside. Makoto frowns. _Now what is he up to?_

She picks up her pace, turns into the alley, and finds nothing. "Where'd he go?" She asks herself, lowering her book.

Then, she hears a soft little noise.

"Meooooowwwww!"

Makoto glances down and sees a black cat with dabs of white on his tail staring up at her, smiling. His tail stands up, and slowly sways from side to side, and his eyes are bright and happy.

"Oh," Makoto says, and smiles down at the cat.

The cat meows again, and then trots up to her leg. He begins to rub his face against her calf and purr.

"Awww," Makoto says, and crouches down. "You're cute." She reaches out a finger and rubs it across his head. The car purrs on. "I don't suppose you saw which way the thin boy with glasses went, did you?"

As she finishes her question, the cat leaps, snatches her manga in his teeth, and rips it out of her hands. "Hey!" Makoto shouts. From the pages of the magazine, her notebook drops. The cat halts, looking from the notebook, down to the manga in its jaws, as if unable to decide which to cart off. When Makoto moves for her notebook, the cat decides. It drops the manga, darts over, clamps the notebook in its mouth, and sprints off.

"Come back!" Makoto shouts after him. "What the hell?" She grabs her manga off the ground and charges after the cat, who whips around the corner ahead of her. She turns, and finds herself in another alley, this time shoved between two small cafes. The cat is already far ahead of her. She continues her pursuit, though she knows she must look ridiculous.

#

Akira turns the last page of Makoto's notebook, then tosses it back to Morgana. "Okay, give it back to her, but make it look like you just dropped it."

"Seriously?" Morgana asks, through the paper in his mouth.

"Yes, hurry!" Akira replies, and shoos him with his hands. Morgana rolls his eyes, but darts back into the alley.

Akira shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the cold, concrete wall. _Well, she doesn't know much, based on what was written in there_.

The notebook had been disappointingly sparse.

_Target is entering X. Target is exiting X_. It made his activities sound downright boring.

But.

There was no question who 'Target' was meant to be. _She knows I work at Raffelsia. So she must've seen Haru. I should let her know. She also saw me at 'Untouchable,' but apparently she didn't go inside. So all she could take from that is that Ryuji and I are gun enthusiasts. Not the best thing to be, but not the worst_.

It still bothers him that she's keeping this notebook at all. If his plan to fool her failed, he'd like to know how. And how the hell was he going to throw her off the trail now?

He pushes his glasses up to his forehead, and rubs his eyes.

#

Makoto has all but given up on her notebook when she makes one final turn in the alley and sees the cat dead ahead, sitting still.

"Hey!" She shouts. Startled, the cat jumps into the air, drops the notebook, and bolts off into the shadows.

"Finally," she groans, and moves to pick it up. She dusts it off with a smack and wipes the cat saliva off on her skirt. _Have to wash that later_. Then, she stares up at the still clear sky. _What the hell am I doing?_ She'd just chased a cat through an alley for a notebook containing her logs of her investigation into a fellow schoolmate.

Insane didn't begin to cover it.

#

Morgana's paw arches out, swats the fluffy substances, and curls back towards his belly.

"Stop that," Akira says.

"I can't," Morgana replies. He swings his arm out again, and bats his target. "It's so _fluffy_."

"You're bothering Haru."

Haru smiles over at him. "No, it's fine."

Morgana turns to him and says, "See?"

He takes another swing at Haru's hair. She giggles and scratches his ear. She holds him in her arms, and smiles down at him. "You're so sweet, Mona-chan." Then she grins up at Akira. "It's like you two are having a conversation."

Akira sets the box of plant seeds down and smiles.

"Sometimes I think he's the smartest person in the room." Morgana beams. "Sometimes, not so much." Morgana hisses.

Haru nods and deposits Morgana onto a nearby table. The two teens are in the back office of Raffelsia, organizing some shelves. Hanasaki-san mans the floor at the moment, and given that it's a slow night, they don't expect to return to the front.

Akira yawns, and turns back to Haru. "Oh, I need to tell you something."

"Yes?" Haru asks, cocking her head to the side.

"I think that Makoto Niijima knows you work here."

Haru's eyes widen. "W-why would you say that?"

He chuckles and rubs the back of his head. "Well, this is kind of embarrassing, but I think she's been following me the last few days. I think she was at Shibuya Underground the other night, and noticed the two of us here. It's just a hunch though. I know she's in your class. I wanted to give you a heads up. I'm sorry if I've caused you any trouble."

Haru's cheeks redden, but for whatever reason, she looks like she's trying to suppress a smile. "Do I take that to mean you _don't_ like Mako-chan following you around?"

"Huh?" Akira asks.

She shakes her head, chestnut curls shifting under her baseball cap. "Nothing," she says. "But don't worry about me. Mako-chan isn't the kind of person who would blab about this."

"Alright," Akira says. "If you're sure. Sorry again."

"Don't worry about it." Then, a speculative look crosses her face. "Hey, Akira-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"What kind of movies do you like?"

Akira feels his brows knit together. Morgana, from where he lazes on the table, looks over at him as well. "What kind of movies do I like?"

She nods. "Yes. I was just wondering."

"Oh, well, all kinds, I guess."

"All kinds? Surely you must have a favorite genre?" Her breath looks bated.

Akira feels his cheeks redden. _What's going on? Why is she asking me this?_ "Action movies are fun. Mysteries. I'm not really into romances or horror."

"I see. You like action and mysteries, but don't like horror or romances."

"Yes." _That is, indeed, what I said_.

"Good to know."

"Why?"

"Hmm?" Haru frowns.

"I mean, why is that 'good to know?'" Akira asks.

Haru smirks and shakes her head. "I'm just curious is all. We're friends, yes? I was interested to know what kind of movies you were into. Oh, and what about books?"

"Books?"

"Yes, what kind of books do you like?"

Akira sighs. _Now what's going on?_

Akira sighs. "I don't know. The same, really. Mysteries and action novels."

"But, you don't read horror novels? Or romance books?"

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't be caught dead with a romance book. Have you seen those covers? And horror stuff freaks me out." He thinks of Caroline and Justine, and shudders. _I get enough horror in my real life, thank you very much_.

"Hmm..." Haru hums. "Akira-kun, are you up to anything this weekend?"

Morgana stands up and shouts, "Conference!" so loud that Haru jumps in her seat. Morgana jumps down off the counter and bounds over to Akira. He leaps and Akira barely has any time to catch him.

"Is he alright?" Haru asks, standing.

Akira, more than a little taken aback, asks, "You okay, Morgana?"

"Conference, idiot!" Morgana says. "Move away from the girl!"

Akira frowns. "Uh, Morgana wants a few moments of private time. Sorry, he does this sometimes. I'll be right back."

Haru nods, and Akira takes a few steps away and turns his back to her. "What's going on with you?" He hisses.

"Are you really this dense?" Morgana mewls in response. "Don't you know _why_ she's asking you these questions?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. She said she was curious and-"

"Earth to Akira! Haru is trying to ask you out!"

The ground falls away from Akira's feet. A million thoughts vie for his focus. _Haru? Ask me out? Impossible. Makoto! What will she think? What will she do? Does it matter? Isn't she investigating? What about the team? What will they do? The investigation! Madarame! Mementos! Haru?! Movies? Romances aren't all bad!_

All he manages to say to his cat is, "Nu-uh."

"Yea-huh," Morgana replies. He shifts in Akira's arms and peers over the boy's shoulders. "Poor Haru. She's probably been pining after you all this time!"

Akira blinks. "No. That can't be right. She teased me all the time about Makoto."

"That's a classic diversion! Duh!"

He thinks about this, and then shakes his head. “I don’t know, that still doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you wise to the ways of women now? I hadn’t noticed.”

“And you are?”

“I’m a third party. I’m being objective!”

“Um,” Haru says. “Is everything alright?” Akira glances back and finds Haru with her hands clenched together in front of her, a worried look on her face.

“Yep,” Akira replies, and gives her a smile. “All good. Just a sec.” He turns back to Morgana. “What should I do?”

“Haru’s great,” Morgana says. “But things are complicated right now. A romantic entanglement would only put more stress on you. I would let her down, but gently.”

Akira sighs, then nods. “Awesome. This won’t make work awkward, at all.” He sets Morgana down, and then turns back to Haru.

“Everything okay?” She asks, as he approaches.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” Akira replies, then sticks his hands in his pockets. _How am I supposed to do this? I’ve never turned down a girl before._ “So, listen Haru.”

“Yes?” She asks.

“I’m, uh, flattered. Yeah, flattered. I really am. But, I’ve got a lot of things going on in my life right now, and I don’t think-“

“Oh my,” Haru says, turning red. Then she begins to shake her head, vehemently. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I think you have the wrong idea. I wasn’t-”

Akira blinks. “Wait, you weren’t-”

“I wasn’t-”

“Oh, good.”

“Asking for me.” Haru finishes her thought, pauses, and says, “Oh, oops.”

Akira stares at her for a long time, then says. “Wait, you weren’t asking ‘for you?’ Does that mean you’re asking for someone else?”

“Ummm,” Haru replies, by way of confirmation, then turns to the boxes. “Oh, Hanasaki-san is going to be mad at us. We’ve barely done any work back here! We should, uh, get on that.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Akira says, moving in front of her. “What did you mean by that?”

“N-nothing,” Haru replies, side-stepping around Akira. “It’s just that I wasn’t asking you those questions because _I_ was interested. Not that I don’t think of you as a friend, Akira-kun. I’m…um, well, I don’t think I should really say anymore. Confidentiality and all that.”

_Confidentiality?_ He looks back at Morgana, and car shifts his legs around in a shrug. He lets out a long sigh and says, “Okay, fine. Whatever you say.”

Haru flashes him a smile as she lifts up a box of seeds from the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a great weekend! I've been rather busy these last few days, so I haven't gotten to any comments at all. Apologies. As soon as I've got the time, I'll go back and check them out! Thank you for reading and I hope to see you all on Friday!


	37. Reflections

5/13

 

Haru sits across from Makoto. The girl's smile is infectious, but Makoto doesn't feel much like returning it. She feels _slimy_.

"And then, Akira-kun thought I was asking him these questions because he thought I wanted to ask him out, but I 'let slip' that I was asking for someone else."

Makoto nods. "I see." She lifts up her tea cup and takes a long sip. Longer than necessary. "Did he say anything else?"

"Well, he said he doesn't have any plans for the weekend, or if he does, he didn't tell them to me. It might be a good idea to corner him after exams and ask him to the movies or something. Or the Planetarium. I hear that place can be quite romantic."

Makoto has never heard of the Planetarium being referred to as 'romantic' before.

Tomorrow is the last day of exams. Despite her many distractions, Makoto is sure of her continued spot at the top of her class.

It's everything else in her life that's keeping her up at night. She looks over at Haru. _This is my friend,_ she thinks. _Haru Okumura is my friend, and I'm lying to her_.

_I'm lying to and disobeying Sae._

_I'm lying to and investigating Akira._

There is no one in the world that she is being honest with.

Last night, Makoto had woken at two in the morning, her skin slick with sweat, her breath in ragged gasps, the faint remnants of a nightmare skittering from her mind and into the shadows. For the first time, in a _very_ long time, Makoto had called for Sae.

"Sis!" She had shouted into the black. "Sis!"

Sae had not come, because Sae was not there.

Makoto was alone.

And even now, sitting across from Haru Okumura, an actual, honest to goodness, friend, she is alone.

The last few weeks have been some of the most exciting and terrifying of her life, but here she is.

Alone.

Haru continues on with her story.

Makoto dips her head forward. "Haru?"

The girl pauses, smiles and asks, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Makoto says, her voice a mumbled squeak.

"Hmm? For what?"

Makoto shakes her head. "Just... I'm sorry."

_Not yet. I'm close. So close_.

A sensation has scratched within her chest for the last few days. She is so close to something, and she wants to believe it is the truth. The truth about Akira. The truth about the Phantom Thieves. If she can hold on just a bit longer, something will give, and she'll learn it all.

Haru reaches out a hand and wraps it around Makoto's own. "Are you alright, Mako-chan?" She asks.

Makoto sighs, nods and smiles over at her friend. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit worn out from the exams."

_Once I learn the truth, I'll tell Haru everything. I'll tell Akira everything_.

She has made her decision. There's one more person she needs to talk to. And _that_ conversation, she's sure, will provide the last bit of data she needs.

_It has to_.

#

"I had to come up with something," Akira says.

Ryuji and Ann sit across from him in the diner, and stare at him, wide-eyed. "So, what did you tell her?" Ryuji asks, words bubbling out of him.

Akira shakes his head. "I told Takemi that I helped the Phantom Thieves, but I wasn't one of them."

"How'd you explain that?"

"I told her I was approached by a confidant of the Phantom Thieves, and that they wanted to change Kamoshida's heart, but they needed my help. They needed to get Kamoshida's address, so I told Takemi I snuck into the faculty office and got it from the directory. I gave it to the courier. The next day, the Phantom Thieves changed Kamoshida's heart."

Ryuji and Ann glance at one another. "And she believed that?" Ann asks, brows raised.

Akira lets out a breath. "Of course not. Then she got... mad."

A smirk plays itself across Ryuji's face. "You know, I don't think I'd mind it if she got mad at me." Ann slaps his arm. "Ow!"

"Perv," she scolds, then turns her glare back to Akira. "So, what happened?"

"Well, she threatened to poison me a few times if I didn't come clean, and I didn't know what else to do, so..." And he tries to smile. "Surprise?"

"She knows?" Ann asks, groaning.

Akira nods. "And she's not happy about it either."

Ryuji piles his forearms atop one another, then drops his head down onto them. "We're so bad at this."

"Tell me about it," Morgana mumbles, from Akira's bag. "Mishima, Nakanohara, Shiho, probably Makoto, the Principal, and now Doctor Takemi? There are more people who know about the Phantom Thieves, than _actual_ Phantom Thieves!"

"Well, what now?" Ann asks. "Is she still going to sell us medicine?"

Akira nods. "Yeah, but only because I begged her. I didn't bother trying to explain the Metaverse, so she still doesn’t really understand why we need it."

"Can we trust her?"

"I think so," Akira says, and stares off into space. "I mean, she's conducting illegal experiments on me. So, if I go down, she goes down."

"Sounds like a healthy relationship," Ann mutters.

"But the Doc had to have guessed, before, right?" Ryuji asks, looking from Ann to Akira. "I mean, we dropped you off, all bloody and shit, to her office. You went to her after that dude died at the hotel. She had to know _something_ was going on. And she didn't rat on us then. Why don't we give her a shot?"

Akira frowns. _The problem is that we keep giving people shots. We keep letting people in on the secret, and even though this one is my fault, if we don't stop the outward flow of information, eventually we'll give someone a shot who stabs us in the back._

"Well," Ann says, and leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. "I guess what's done is done. You said you spoke with that Ohya reporter too, right? How'd that go?"

Akira tells them of his brief time in Crossroads bar, and of his intense conversation with Ohya. He left out the calming one with Lala Escargot.

"Wow," Ryuji says, when he finishes. "Shinjuku sure is a weird place."

Morgana shakes his head. " _That's_ your takeaway from the story?"

Ryuji shrugs. "What'd you want me to say? I don't know who this Yusuke Kitagawa guy is either."

"Umm," Ann says.

Akira looks at her. Her eyes are wider than usual, and her lips are sucked in to slash a thin, worried line across her face. "What's wrong?"

"You said, 'Yusuke Kitagawa,' right?" Ann asks, in a small voice.

Akira nods. "Yeah. Do you know who that is?"

"Kinda.”

"For real?" Ryuji blurts out. He pumps a fist into the air. "Alright! Way to go, Ann!"

"That's great," Akira says, leaning in closer. "Who is he?"

Ann, for whatever reason, looks reluctant to speak. "So, uh, remember how I told you that I may have had an 'in' with Madarame?" Both boys nod. Morgana pokes his head up and over the edge of the table. "Well, a few days ago, I heard about a modeling gig at Kosei High. Not 'modeling' modeling, like I usually do. The offer was to pose for an art student. And the big draw of it was that the art student was the famous Madarame's apprentice. His name is Yusuke Kitagawa."

Ryuji continues to grin. Akira's fades.

"So, anyway," Ann continues. "I asked my manager if I could take the gig. He was confused, of course, since it didn't pay much and it's not something I usually do, but I convinced him that I'm a huge fan of Madarame's, and I wanted to meet one of his apprentices and ask him what it was like to 'learn under the master's hand,' or something like that. He said he would see. I just got word today, actually. Tomorrow, after the exams end, I'm supposed to go to Kosei High and meet with Kitagawa. Then, he'll paint me. And then, I can pick his brain about Madarame."

"He's gonna paint you?" Ryuji asks, a worried look on his face. "Like, naked?"

"No, you idiot!" Ann growls, and slaps him on the arm again. "I'll be clothed. I'm supposed to wear a kimono. He wants to create a classical piece, or something."

"Oh," Ryuji says, then smiles once more. "That's awesome, right Akira?" He turns to look at Akira, and frowns. "What's wrong?”

Akira couldn't tell what he looked like, but he could tell he wasn’t smiling. " _This_ is why I asked you to tell us beforehand," he says. Morgana shifts away from him.

Ann looks down at the table, then glares back at him. "Oh, like you tell us everything?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whoa, whoa, guys, chill out," Ryuji says, patting the air. "What's the big deal, Akira? Now we know who Yusuke Kitagawa is."

"Yes," Akira replies. "But if I'd known that _before_ the meeting with Ohya, I could've told her I already knew who Kitagawa was. Then, she probably would've given me some other information that might've proved useful. Instead, I spent the last two days trying to figure out who Kitagawa was, when Ann knew the whole time."

"Well excuse me, Mister My Plans Always Work!" Ann spits. "But you didn't know when we were going to get the burners. You didn't know when you were going to meet Ohya. You didn't know anything about Madarame. So I took some initiative, so what?"

Akira shakes his head. "It's not that you took initiative. It's that you didn't tell us about it. I told you that we shouldn't keep secrets from one another."

"Unless they're your secrets, right?" Ann asks. Before Akira replies, she keeps going. " _You're_ allowed to keep secrets. _You're_ allowed to tell people about the Phantom Thieves, but we're not?"

"I told Takemi because I had to. She more or less figured it all out, anyway." He groans. "And that's not the point. And I don't have any other secrets."

"Oh, that's such bullshit," Ann says, throwing her hands into the air. "What about all that stuff you said about your dad?"

"Okay!" Ryuji says, almost throwing himself across the table. "I think it's time to chill the hell out, you guys.”

"Are you saying what I told you about my father was a lie?" Akira asks, eyes narrow. "Because if it is, I want you to be very clear about it."

Ann's face flickers for the barest of seconds, but she just shakes her head. "You know, Akira, you act like everyone is an idiot except for you. But it was _your_ idea to have Nakanohara walk through Shibuya Underground, right past the flower shop. _You_ got involved with Makoto before we knew she was investigating us. _Your_ plan nearly got Ryuji, Morgana and me killed by Takanashi's shadow, while _you_ hung out at the library with her. And it doesn't even look like it worked! And _you_ tipped off the Doctor with all your crazy crap!"

"Ann, seriously," Ryuji says, quickly. "That's enough!" Morgana is hunched down in the bag, quivering.

Akira sits and stares at Ann for a long time. Then he says, "You're going to Kosei High tomorrow?"

Ann frowns. "I am. Right after the exams."

He nods. "See what you can get out of Yusuke Kitagawa. If he's Madarame's apprentice, he should have plenty of dirt on the guy. We'll meet on Sunday and discuss our next move." He slides out of the booth, and pulls a few banknotes from his pocket, before setting them gingerly on the table. Then he scoops up his bag, Morgana in tow. "Good luck on your exams, guys. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"Akira, c'mon," Ryuji says, a half-smile on his lips. "Just sit back down, dude. It's all good. Ann didn't mean it. We're all just fried from exams."

"Ryuji's right," Morgana says, from the bag. "You're all on edge. Take a minute to calm down."

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "This is a cause for celebration, right? Mona and I finally agree on somethin'!"

"Later, man," Akira says. He turns, and walks off.

#

Ann stares at her drink. "Oh, just let him go, Ryuji."

Ryuji shakes his head and drops it back onto the table. "Ann, what the hell?"

She glares over at him. "You're taking his side?"

"I'm _on_ his side. And I'm on _your_ side too! We're all on the same side, remember?"

"He acts like he's the only one who can make plans, that we're both idiots who can't possibly fathom his massive intellect.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "No, he doesn't, Ann. You're just mad at him. And we're _not_ geniuses, Ann. You can check my test scores next week for proof of that."

She shakes her head. "You defend him, all the time."

"Because he's my freakin' friend, just like you. If he started ripping into you like you just did to him, you better believe I'd say something. But you went too far there, Ann."

"Too far?"

He glares up at her. "Yes! All that shit about his dad? I told you not to bring that stuff up!"

Ann bites her lip, but doesn't let up. "Oh, come on. He's definitely lying about all of that."

Ryuji just shakes his head and lets out an exhausted sigh. "You could've told us you knew about Kitagawa, Ann. He's not wrong about that."

Ann doesn't say anything for a time, then huffs out an, "I guess."

"Look," Ryuji says, straightening himself. "I'm wiped from the tests. I'm gonna go home, and sleep my ass off. You should do the same. And tomorrow, you guys should knock this crap off."

"We'll see," Ann mumbles.

#

Akira ends his silent march through Yongen-jaya when he enters LeBlanc. Morgana, wisely, had kept quiet for their trip home. Thoughts raced through his head, but they were muddy. White noise. Everything Ann had shouted at him bounces through his head.

_They wanted me to lead, and when shit hits the fan, it's my fucking fault?!_

And it was. Because he was the leader. His plans. His responsibilities.

"What's wrong with you?" Sojiro asks.

Akira refocuses on his environment. It's late, but not that late. LeBlanc is absent customers, and Sojiro stands behind the bar, drying mugs with a rag. The television blares in the background, some nonsense from TV Tokyo.

He considers going up to his room, but knows the second he gets there, Morgana will break his silent spell and start blabbing about how he needs to make up with Lady Ann, so he grabs a seat at the bar.

"Were your exams that bad?" Sojiro asks, smirking.

"Tomorrow's the last day," Akira replies.

Sojiro shrugs. "That wasn't what I asked, but fine." He walks off into the kitchen, and returns a few moments later with a plate covered in foil. "Here," he says, setting it down in front of him. "If you haven't eaten.”

"Thanks," Akira grumbles, but pulls back the foil and grabs a spoon for the curry. He takes a bite and sighs. _Why can't this be my life? Just eating curry. All the time. No school. No Phantom Thievery._

The more he eats, the more his thoughts begin to come together.

_Ann shouldn't have brought up my dad._

_And I shouldn't have made Ann feel bad about not telling us about Kitagawa._

_But she should've told us._

_Yeah, but she's just as new to this as I am. And she wasn't wrong. My stupid, elaborate plan must've failed if Makoto's still investigating us._

_Division isn't good. It'll drive the group apart._

_She's also my friend. I'll apologize tomorrow._

He takes another bite.

_Or maybe on Sunday or Monday._ As much as he hates to admit it, he likes feeling angry. When he feels angry, he doesn't have to think, and to Akira, _not_ thinking is a wonderful, rare luxury.

Then, a voice from the television draws his attention.

"Phantom Thieves!"

His eyes snap to the set. A heavily made up, middle aged woman sits on a stage, smiling into the camera. "Hackers!" She continues. "Bandits! Today, we'll be talking about the rise of these supposed 'purveyors of justice,' and how they've captured the imagination of the public. I'm Mitsuyo Togo, and this is 'Eye on Tokyo!'”

Applause as the camera pans out, and Akira sees that the woman is seated next to a young man.

He is a good looking boy, and Akira would guess that he is around his own age. His hair is long, and a sandy brown that matches his uniform. His smile is bright, but a bit embarrassed.

"Joining me," Mitsuyo Togo continues, "is the ever-popular Detective Prince, Goro Akechi!"

Even more applause, wilder this time, with a fair amount of young, feminine shrieks mixed in.

"Thank you for having me, Togo-san," Akechi replies. His voice is soft and apologetic, as if he doesn't believe he deserves to be there. The grin he flashes the audience is a shy one. "I'm quite honored to be here."

"Oh, please, Akechi-kun," Togo states, her grin almost painful. "It's an absolute joy to have you on the show with us today. I admit, I'm something of a fan of yours, myself!" The audience laughs, and Akechi's cheeks redden.

"That's, uh, very kind of you to say."

"Oh my," the host states, taking in the camera and audience with a sweeping glance. "I do believe I've made the Detective Prince blush!"

Even more laughter.

"But honestly," Togo rolls on. "I, and I'm certain my audience shares this sentiment, are simply in awe of your abilities. To have solved so many cases, at such a young age, it's truly remarkable!"

"No, no," Akechi says, shaking his head. "While I appreciate your words, the truth is I would be nowhere without the cooperation of the police, the Public Prosecutor’s office, and the hundreds of hard-working men and women who strive to keep us all safe. Perhaps I have made some deductions, but it is their efforts that bring the evidence to light. They're the ones who put themselves in harm's way, all in the name of justice. Really, they are the ones who deserve your admiration."

Sojiro turns with a smirk towards Akira, "How many times do you think he rehearsed _that_ line?"

Akira doesn't reply, and Sojiro turns back to the television, grumbling.

"Well said, well said!" Togo says, clapping her hands together in an almost frantic beat. The audience follows in kind. Once it has died down, the host continues with, "Now, Akechi-kun, we brought you on the show today to share your insights into the recent, well, _explosive_ rise in a particular type of crime.”

Akechi nods, his expression growing serious. "Of course, I understand just what you mean. To a person going about his or her daily life, the news about groups like Medjed and their ilk may seem sparse, but statistically, there has been an, as you put it, dramatic rise in criminal activity, cloaking itself in the disguise of justice."

Togo's eyes widen. "Wow. 'Cloaking itself in the disguise of justice.' What an incredible way of putting it! May I ask you to clarify for our viewers, just what you mean by that?"

Akechi turns his full attention out to the cameras. "Recently, our society has seen an increase in a kind of vigilantism. Specifically, groups have formed that appear to target the wealthy, the powerful, and - in the minds of the criminals - the corrupt and unjust.

"Now, this alone is not something new. However, the actions that are being taken by these groups are what lends these cases their... quirkiness, I suppose you can say. These criminals do not just target and rob or hack their victims. They seek to _embarrass_ them. They do not just commit crimes, but they rub their victims’ noses in it."

Togo nods along as he says all this. "You mentioned Medjed, specifically."

"Correct," Akechi intones. "Medjed, the international hacker group, claims they are the 'Executors of Justice.' Since their initial rise to fame, some three odd years ago, they have claimed responsibility for hundreds of computer attacks across the world. They electronically break into companies, steal or corrupt valuable data, and sneak back out again. But that is not all they do. Oftentimes, they accumulate evidence of corruption and illicit business practices, and expose this information to the public. One could say the inevitable PR nightmares that followed were more disastrous to the companies in question, than the loss of the stolen or corrupted files."

"But certainly Medjed isn't the only group to have done something like this?"

"They aren't. Plenty of other groups scurry around the Internet that do the same thing. Blitzkrieg. LOL@U. DowdzDrinks2Much. But Medjed is so flamboyant in their boasting, in their proclamations. They announce what they're doing. They come right out and say who they will target, what they will do, and then they do it. They don't accept bribes from the companies they hack. They don't show any mercy."

"Much has been said about this group in the past. I understand that they are not so popular anymore, yes?"

"Correct. Recently, some rumors have been circulating around certain online gathering places that the Medjed of today, is _not_ the original Medjed. No one is quite sure how this came to be, but members of those other groups I mentioned claim that Medjed presently operates, and indeed, may have _always_ operated, as a kind of corporate hitman."

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"Again," Akechi says, padding the air. "I'm not one to indulge in rumors. But the prevailing theory is that Medjed is hired _by_ corporations to hack into their competitors, steal and corrupt data, and then expose their executives’ skeletons."

"All under the guise of promoting justice."

"Correct. If it's true, then Medjed have been nothing but liars from the start. Similar to the other popular group, Tatterdemalion."

Akira spoons another bit of curry into his mouth, and straightens.

"They struck again a few months ago," Togo says, eagerness infecting her voice. "That was... quite the heist."

"Indeed," Akechi replies, and frowns. "For those of you unaware, Tatterdemalion is a group of thieves that have operated on and off for the last several years, not just in Japan, but internationally as well. Their most recent crime, was to steal the prized car collection of one, Morihiro Koshiishi, CEO of Kohiishi Synthetics. Naturally, as a CEO, Koshiishi-san received many threats during his tenure. However, it is - as ever - the way in which Tatterdemalion declared their intention that caused such a fuss."

Togo smiles and looks at the crowd. "And that would be... the Calling Card!"

Akechi's frown deepens. "Yes. Koshiishi-san discovered a 'Calling Card' in his dining room from Tatterdemalion. In it, they exclaimed that they disagreed with his 'shady business practices,' and had decided to steal the entirety of his prized car collection that night. Naturally, having heard of Tatterdemalion, Koshiishi-san took, what he thought would be, necessary precautions."

"Which were?" Togo asks, prodding.

"He had his cars loaded into several trucks, to be delivered to a secure location."

"And what happened?" Togo asks, giddy.

Akechi sighs. "When the trucks arrived, and they were reopened, it was discovered that _somehow_ the prized cars had been replaced with papier-mache replicas."

The audience bursts into laughter. Even Togo joins in. Akechi does not. He draws a long, sad look over the crowd. "I fail to see the humor in this."

Togo brings her giggles under control. "Well, you have to admit, Akechi-kun, it was quite clever."

"Was it?" Akira mumbles.

"Was it?" Akechi asks. Togo blinks in response, and Akechi sighs. "I'm sorry if I don't share the admiration so many people seem to have for this group. But, Tatterdemalion consistently cites itself as a group fighting for the common man against overlord oppressors. Against the rich and the corrupt. But what have they really done for anyone other than themselves?

"Some weeks after the cars were stolen, a number of them showed up on the black market. I'm told they fetched a significant price. How much of that money went to 'the people?' Was any of it donated? Not that we can tell. Was any of it used to further the causes of the 'common people' Tatterdemalion supposedly represents? Again, no. How much of it went to line Tatterdemalion's own pockets? I believe, all of it.” Akechi's eyes drift back towards the camera, and this time it appears to Akira as if they are imploring the audience. "These people are criminals, nothing more. Perhaps they have more panache than the average group, but criminals they remain. Their choice of victim is irrelevant. Their methods and their tricks and all their little tools are irrelevant. They steal. They flaunt the law. And they do it, not out of some Robin Hood-esque loyalty to the common man, but to further themselves. They are selfish. They are liars. I'll say it again, they are criminals."

Togo is no longer laughing. Instead, she clears her throat and says, "You seem very _opinionated_ about Tatterdemalion, Akechi-kun."

He nods. "My apologies, but I am. I know, better than some, how disappointing and frustrating the world can be. I was orphaned at a very young age. I was cycled through the foster system, and can tell you that it is a place filled with corruption. I'm not naive. I know this same corruption pervades many levels of our society. So I can understand the desire to strike back, vicariously, through groups like Medjed and Tatterdemalion. These people spit in the faces of the unjust and corrupt. It can feel _so_ cathartic to see a vile person getting what we all believe they deserve. But we are a society based on law and order. We put our faith in the justice of our systems."

Akira shakes his head. _Because that works so well for everyone_.

 “Sometimes,” Akechi continues. “Those systems fail us. Sometimes they even hurt us. But our response should not be to lash out with lawlessness. Real change can only occur through the reformation of our systems. It is a slow process. It is a frustrating process. But it is our only option.” The crowd is silent. Togo looks unsure of herself. “If we instead, chose to commit crimes to get back at those who have wronged us, then we are saying that illegal activity is acceptable, as long as we’re doing it. That it’s okay to break the law, if we’re hurting those who first hurt us. This is not the way of a just society. This is medieval.”

“Man,” Sojiro says, breaking Akira’s fugue. “This kid sure has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“I guess,” Akira replies with a grumble.

Togo clears her throat once more. “So, then, Akechi-kun. Having said all of that, tell us, what do you make of this latest group? The ones calling themselves the ‘Phantom Thieves?’”

Akechi nods, as if to himself, and sits still for a moment. His face takes on a speculative look. “On the surface, the Phantom Thieves would appear to be nothing more than an internet fad. A juvenile Tatterdemalion rip-off. I’m sure most of the audience has seen the images of the calling card that was placed at Shujin Academy. It’s… very _lackluster_ in its design. What’s more, the language used was almost identical to that of Tatterdemalion’s. They set themselves up as these mysterious thieves who would steal the corruption directly out of Suguru Kamoshida’s heart.” Togo nods along, eyes staring directly into Akechi’s. “Here’s the thing though. You can’t _steal_ corruption. It’s intangible. You’d have just as much luck stealing joy, or fear. And yet, as evidenced by Suguru Kamoshida’s public confession, it would appear that the Phantom Thieves _succeeded_.” Togo opens her mouth to reply, but Akechi continues onward.

“But it’s not only that. Let’s set aside the fact that the Phantom Thieves were able to steal the corruption from Kamoshida. Our follow up investigation has detected that nothing was stolen from Kamoshida’s home. There were no outlandish or odd bank transactions. A thorough probing of his recent communications indicates he had received _no_ additional threats, or messages or communications from the Phantom Thieves, aside from the Calling Card.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Akechi-kun?” Togo asks, brows furrowed.

_Yeah_ , Akira thinks. _Just what the hell are you trying to say?_

“Unlike the other groups we’ve discussed, the Phantom Thieves seem to have targeted Kamoshida for the sole purpose of stealing his corruption. They did not rob him. They did not, as far as we can tell, blackmail him. There was no extortion. No threat of physical harm if he did not confess. _Nothing_. The Phantom Thieves targeted him because he was a rapist, and took him down for that reason alone. They sought no reimbursement. I don’t see how they could have made a single yen off of this ‘heist.’”

Togo brightens. “So, wouldn’t that prove that the Phantom Thieves are what those other groups claim to be, in actuality? You say that Medjed and Tatterdemalion lie about their true purpose. Would it be safe to say that the Phantom Thieves aren’t lying?”

Akechi shrugs. “It is a bit too early to say. But from what we’ve seen, it would appear that the Phantom Thieves are just what they claim to be. A group capable of stealing the corruption out of evil men and women.”

Togo grins. “Well, then-“

“And that should _terrify_ you,” Akechi states, his voice hollow and cold.

Akira feels his blood run cold.

“A-and why is that, Akechi-kun?” Togo asks.

“Because if they _can_ steal the corruption out of someone, what else can they do? Tatterdemalion steals valuable objects. Medjed steals data. But the Phantom Thieves appear to steal _states of being_. And if they could do it to Suguru Kamoshida, why couldn’t they do it to me?” He looks at Togo. “Or you?” Then, he runs his eyes over the audience. “Or any of you? We’ve seen, what? One major case involving the Phantom Thieves, so far? Yes, there are those two minor ones from their website, but who knows if those are real? Who knows if the Phantom Thieves haven’t done other damage? Who knows what kind of damage they could do?” He looks imploringly into the camera. “I pray that we discover that this is all something much more mundane. That we overlooked something and the Phantom Thieves really did bribe or blackmail Suguru Kamoshida into a confession. Because, if that is not the case, then we, as a society, are being held hostage. Held hostage by a group that could alter the very make-up of our personalities and minds.”

Togo blinks, and no one says anything for a time. “Th-that does seem rather scary,” she says.

Akechi shakes his head. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I just believe in looking at things clearly. At facts, rather than fads.”

“Of course,” she says, nodding. “Of course.” Then she looks at the camera. “We’ll take a quick commercial break, and return soon. Our upcoming guest will be a former prosecutor who got involved in the Tatterdemalion case back when they first appeared on the scene. Please, join me in thanking Goro Akechi, the Detective Prince, for his incredible insight!” A smattering of applause breaks out in the studio, nowhere near as rambunctious as it had been before. “As ever, keep an eye, on ‘Eye on Tokyo!’” Togo states, and the screen shifts to a commercial.

“Wow,” Sojiro says, staring at the screen. “I guess I never thought of it like that, huh?”

He turns and looks at Akira, who stares at his now empty plate, mind a million miles away. Without a word, Akira snatches his bag off the stool next to him, and marches upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, happy Friday! Hope you enjoyed this chapter of Crimson. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to be able to post next week. A number of things just came up, and I've got to handle them all soon, which means I can't give this fic the attention it deserves.
> 
> Never fear though, I will be back the week of the 13th with more Crimson. We get to meet Yusuke! 
> 
> Thank you all for your understanding, and I hope to see you back here soon! As always, thank you very much for reading Crimson!


	38. Going too Far

5/14

Makoto stands outside the door. She stares at it, hands clenched around the straps of her bag.

_This isn't a good idea. This is pushing it_. She shakes her head clear. This is something she has to do. She has to know.

Exams were over. Haru had asked if Makoto wanted to celebrate, but Makoto had made an excuse and left.

_I should just go find Akira. I can text him right now. I’m sure he’d reply._

She bites her lower lip. _Just do it!_ If she was going to learn the truth, she had to do things that made her uncomfortable.

Makoto steels herself, knocks, and opens the door.

The lack of light stuns her. The curtains hang over the window, and muffle the sun.

A figure stirs across the room and Makoto sees the head of a shadow turn towards her. "Ann?" Comes a soft voice.

"Um," Makoto says, and steps closer.

Shiho Suzui blinks up at her. Her skin is pale, and she looks much thinner than Makoto remembers her. It is her hair that upsets her the most. Suzui's is matted and sticky, and absent the personality of her sideways ponytail.

For a moment, Makoto is paralyzed by the memory of her broken body in the middle of the courtyard, and Akira's harsh words from a few weeks ago.

_I saw you, the day Shiho jumped. I saw you on the edge of the crowd, standing there, doing nothing_.

"Hi, Suzui," Makoto manages in a weak voice.

The girl continues to stare up at her, and then she tilts her face down towards the blankets on her lap. "Hello, Niijima-senpai." The voice is distant, cold.

"May I sit?" Makoto asks, gesturing to one of the chairs alongside the bed.

Suzui shrugs. "If you'd like."

Makoto nods, and grateful for the activity, takes her time in bringing the chair closer to the bed, and settles her skirt before sitting.

"It's good to see you," Makoto says, when she can't justify anymore fidgeting.

"Thank you," Suzui replies. "May I ask why you're here?"

"Yes, of course," Makoto says, and reaches into her bag. She withdraws a few notebooks filled with handouts and assignments. "I wanted to bring you this. It's the schoolwork you've missed."

Suzui stares at the binder as though it's a foreign object. "Oh. Did my teachers give that to you?"

"Well, I actually went around and collected it myself. I know you won't be coming back to school for a while, but I figured you wouldn't want to be left behind."

"R-right," Suzui says. "Thanks." She nods to the nightstand. "You can leave it there."

Makoto nods, and sets it down, alongside two picture frames. One holds a photo of Suzui with her mother and father. The other contains a picture of Suzui and Takamaki, out of their school clothes, in what looks like a karaoke booth. "Has Takamaki been to see you?"

Suzui's eyes flicker towards Makoto's. "You _know_ she has been."

Makoto's throat goes dry. "I'm sorry?"

"She was texting Akira Kurusu the other day, when she came to visit. She told me you were tutoring him. We took a photo."

"Oh, of course. I just meant-"

"Why are you here, Niijima-senpai?" Suzui's words are harsher now.

"I just wanted to check up on you, and-"

" _Liar_ ,"Suzui snarls.

Makoto doesn't realize she's gasped until the sound seems to hang in the room for a moment longer than it's possible.

Shiho Suzui glares at her. Her head is tilted forward, and strands of black hair obscure her face, but Makoto can see her lower jaw working at a furious pace, chittering and chapped and scabbed. Her eyes stare out from beneath that cowl, white with anger, pupils dilated.

Makoto begins to slide back in her chair. "I'm the Student Council President," Makoto manages. "It's my responsibility to-"

"You don't care," Suzui whispers. "You never cared. You're a liar, and I hate liars. Liars keep pretending nothing's wrong." Her words are coming faster now, her breath more ragged. "Liars don't tell the truth when they're asked to. Liars keep telling you that everything will be fine. Liars act like they care but don't. Liars won't do anything until it's _safe_."

Makoto knows nothing can happen here. She knows Shiho Suzui is weak, and frail, and can't move much due to her injuries. She _knows_ this, but beneath the girl's glare, Makoto doesn't _feel_ safe.

Before she knows what she is doing, Makoto asks, "When was the last time Ann Takamaki came to visit you? Really?"

"Get out of here," Suzui says, her voice barely above a whisper. Makoto doesn't move. "Get out of here." This, a bit louder.

"Okay," Makoto says, standing. _What did I just do? Why did I do this?_

"Get out of here," Suzui says. "Get out of here! Get out of here!"

"I'm sorry," Makoto replies, stepping away from the bed. "I'm so sorry, Suzui."

"Get out of here!" Suzui screams. "Get out of here! GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

She doesn't writhe in the bed, she doesn't shake or point or _do_ anything. She sits perfectly still as she screams at Makoto, and this terrifies her more than anything else.

When she reaches the door, it opens from the outside and a nurse rushes in. "What's going on?" She asks Makoto, and turns to Suzui as the girl continues her terrible chant.

"GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!"

The nurse looks back at Makoto. "What did you _do_?"

Makoto runs out the door and down the hall. She dashes onto the elevator, blessedly alone, wraps her arms around herself and begins to shake. She thinks she is about to cry, but no tears come, she just stands there, trembling, as the elevator slowly makes its way down to the ground floor.

Then, the door opens, and Makoto steps out into the lobby, and leaves the hospital.

#

“Are you sure about this, Ann-chan?” Her manager asks. She casts a worried glance back towards the far end of the room. “This guy seems kind of… weird.”

Ann does another spin before the mirror. _I really do look great._ “I’m sure he’s just eccentric. That’s what artists are like, right?”

Her manager frowns and rolls her eyes. “I dated an artist back in college. I wouldn’t call him eccentric.”

“What would you call him?”

“Annoying.”

In the corner of the room, before an easel, sits a reed-thin Yusuke Kitagawa. His dark hair slides elegantly to the side of his face, framing soft, gray eyes. One hand rests gently against his cheek, the other cups his elbow. His uniform is simple and form fitting, and when Ann stares at him for too long, her mind begins to drift towards the image of a scarecrow hanging in a field.

“Well,” she says, glancing over at her manager. “I’m sure it’ll be-“

Yusuke suddenly launches off his stool, and snatches up a brush from where it sat on a table alongside him. “ _It_ is upon me,” he cries. “The muse!” He tilts his head forward and gestures with his free hand to the center of the room, where a white and simple tatami mat sits. “Let us begin… the _channeling_.”

“Uh,” Ann’s manager says. “I think that’s your cue.”

“R-right,” Ann replies. _What have I gotten myself into?_

Ann’s kimono is red, ornamented with white lilies. Yusuke Kitagawa had brought it, though Ann has no idea where he’d gotten it. She walks to the center of the mat and looks over at Yusuke. “So, um, where do you want me to go?”

Yusuke does not take his eyes of the blank easel. “Assume whichever position you believes accents the contours of your beauty to their utmost.”

_Okay, so that was lewd_. But Ann has heard much worse in the world of modeling. She sighs and kneels down on the mat, righting herself into a traditional pose, head tilted forward demurely, and hands resting calmly in her lap. “Is this good?”

 “Indeed,” Yusuke says, finally glancing her way. “Now, we shall begin.” His hand holding the brush whips out to a small blot of paint upon a wad of paper, twirls, and returns to the canvas.

“So,” Ann says. “It sure must be something to apprentice under the great Madarame.”

“It _is_ quite the honor,” Yusuke replies. “But, apologies, I must ask for complete silence. True art can only be crafted in a vacuum, devoid of the imperfections of the everyday world. You may, of course, ask me whatever you’d like once I’ve finished.”

“Oh, okay,” Ann says, frowning. “Sure.”

_Great, just great. How long is this supposed to take anyway?_

From where she kneels, she watches as Yusuke shifts his hand with the barest of motions, before frowning. “No. No! That’s not right,” he grumbles. “Must begin again.”

_Crap…_

Time ticks on, and Ann finds herself alone with her thoughts. Alone, because although she shares the room with Yusuke Kitagawa, it’s clear he’s gone off into his own world. She returns, in her own mind, to the fight from the previous night. _Dumb jerk Akira_. She thinks this, but it no longer has the bite and bitterness.

When she was younger, her mother had taught her a method to deal with anger. She told Ann that whenever she was angry with someone, like a friend or family member, she should write down all the reasons she was angry. Then, she should take a few minutes, and write down all the good qualities about the person. Ann hadn’t done this since middle school, but she did it last night, for Akira.

_Akira Kurusu. Points against:_

  * _Lies_
  * _Makes stupid, elaborate plans that don’t work_
  * _Gets mad about dumb things_
  * _Likes Makoto_



Then, she had taken a few minutes, and continued.

_Akira Kurusu. Points for:_

  * _Had my back against Kamoshida/ Wrecked Kamoshida’s gross ass_
  * _Doesn’t think bad things about me_
  * _Doesn’t think bad things about Ryuji_
  * _Has a talking cat (Point Against: Talking cat has crush on me)_
  * _Listens to me_
  * _Cares about me_
  * _Is my friend_



“Dammit,” she had said. She had hoped to stay mad longer.

Now, stuck as she is as Yusuke’s subject, she can’t help but acknowledge she isn’t really mad anymore. She’d just been embarrassed. Yes, she should’ve told them about her lead with Yusuke. No, he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it. No, she certainly shouldn’t have brought up his dad, and her suspicions about the story he had told them. It hadn’t been the right time.

Ann lets out a sigh, and shifts the barest of a fraction on the mat. She’s used to holding poses for stretches of time, but for photographs, not paintings. Her legs are beginning to cramp. _God, did women really sit like this for hours at a time in the old days?_

As this thought runs its way through her mind, Yusuke Kitagawa drops from the stool and into a heap upon the floor. Ann gasps and straightens up, cringing at the stab of pain in her legs. “Are you alright?” She calls.

“Failure,” Yusuke mumbles, from the floor.

“Huh?” Ann asks, approaching.

Yusuke extends a single, empty hand to the sky, grasping at _something_ , and moans, “The muse has fled, and my work is a failure. I apologize, Takamaki. Your beauty remains unpreserved upon the canvas!”

“Um,” Ann says, standing over him. _Is this guy for real?_ “That’s fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” Yusuke growls, and extends upwards, like a dancer unfolding himself. “It is most certainly not ‘fine.’ My task was to capture the ascetics of your beauty, but all I managed to achieve was, _that._ ” He gestures to the canvas, and Ann takes a peek.

She sees a beautiful, half-complete painting of herself, a small smile on her lips, eyes gazing as if looking at something far away. “Wow, this is really good,” she says, with no exaggeration.

Yusuke shakes his head. “Someone would your sensibilities would say that.”

Ann frowns. “Okay, ouch. I think it looks great. Just because you don’t doesn’t mean you get to be a jerk about it.”

Yusuke sighs, and his shoulder slump. “I apologize. My temperament has been abysmal as of late. If Sensei were here, he would’ve known how to complete this work to its fullest potential.”

Ann glances back at him. “Sensei? You mean, Madarame?”

“Indeed,” he says, with a nod, and then looks up at her. “Ah, that’s right. You cited interest in Sensei’s work, did you not?”

“Totally,” Ann says, smiling. “That’s the whole reason I took this gig. Would it be okay if I asked you some questions?”

A small grin spreads across Yusuke’s face. “Of course. It is always a delight to discuss the Master’s genius with others.”

Ann blinks. “Uh, right. So, what’s it like apprenticing for him?”

Yusuke frowns. “An interesting question, but one I do not believe I can answer adequately. You see, I have been Madarame’s apprentice since I was a child. He raised me as a father would, taught me everything I know about the world of artistic expression, and continues to push me to achieve my dreams of becoming an artist.”

“Oh. So, he’s a good guy?”

Yusuke chuckles. “I wouldn’t use such a colloquial term, but yes. Sensei is indeed, a ‘good guy.’”

 Ann rolls this information around in her mind. _Was Nakanohara just blowing smoke? But we checked Madarame on the app. He definitely has a Palace._

“You said Madarame raised you from when you were a kid,” Ann says, trying a new line of inquiry. “Were you that good of an artist as a child?”

Yusuke’s smile becomes a sad one. “I don’t believe so. Actually, Madarame was an acquaintance of my mother’s. She was an artist as well, under his tutelage. She, unfortunately, was prone to seizures, and died of one when I was three. Sensei took me in and has cared for me ever since.”

“Wow,” Ann says. “Not many people would do that.”

Yusuke nods. “Not many people are as kind as Sensei.”

Ann’s mind races. _Wait a minute._ “Have you ever heard of someone named Natsuhiko Nakanohara?” She asks.

Yusuke purses his lips and is silent for a moment. “No, I don’t believe I have. Who is this person?”

“No one, forget I said anything.” _What the hell? He’s never heard of Nakanohara, and he’s head over heels for Madarame. I can’t just straight up ask him if he’s getting plagiarized, can I?_

“If I may ask,” Yusuke says, suddenly. “As a follower of Madarame, what piece of his enchants you the most?”

Ann breaks out into a big smile. “Oh, gee. There’s just _so_ many…” _Okay, okay. Think! I researched this. What was that famous one? Right!_ “But, I’d have to say, ‘ _Sayuri_ ,’ is my favorite.”

Yusuke closes the distance between the two of them and grabs her hands in his own, then stares into her eyes.

“Hey!” She shouts. “What’re you-”

“That’s my favorite as well,” Yusuke declares, energy dripping from his voice. “It inspired me, as a child, to pursue the life of an artist. To create my own, ‘ _Sayuri_ ,’ is my dream! Tell me, what about ‘ _Sayuri’_ resonates with you the most?”

“Um,” Ann says. “The colors?”

“Yes, yes,” Yusuke says, nodding. “The colors Sensei used do indeed elicit an emotional response. Well put!” He releases her hands and takes a few steps away, and stares off into space. “He told me the inspiration came to him in a dream one night. He saw a woman looking at something, and the look on her face was so intriguing, so inscrutable, that he had to try and capture it.” Yusuke smiles and shakes his head. “If you believe Sensei, he claims that what he created does not, in actuality, live up to his dream. Privately, he calls it his, ‘most popular failure.’”

“It’s too bad it was stolen,” Ann says.

Yusuke nods. “Tragic indeed. A loss not just for Sensei, but the world at large. To be deprived of original beauty like that, it is truly a crime like no other.”

_We’re getting sidetracked here. Got to get back to what’s important._ “So,” Ann asks, trailing a finger through her hair. “Have you ever worked on a piece with Madarame?”

“Of course. Sensei’s tutelage is instrumental in my work. He oversees everything I undertake.”

“Oh, cool,” Ann says. “Has any of it ever been shown to the public? I’d love to see something you’ve completed.”

Something passes over Yusuke’s face. Or rather, his smile, his eyes, every part of him, freezes in place. It only lasts a second, but it’s long enough. “N-no,” Yusuke replies. “I’m afraid my work has yet to see the light of day. One day, when Madarame deems me ready, I shall unveil it upon the world.”

_What was that?_ Ann doesn’t say anything for a moment. _It’s like when Akira lies. His face does that little twitchy-thing. Yusuke was fine up until I asked him that last question._

If Yusuke Kitagawa’s work was being plagiarized by Madarame, it stood to reason that he would know about it. Madarame was a prominent artist, and any exhibit he held drew widespread notice. So, if he had used a painting of Yusuke’s, the kid would’ve found out almost immediately. But to hear Yusuke tell it, Madarame was a wonderful and kind teacher. _What the hell is going on?_

A buzz reverberates through the room. “Oh,” Yusuke says, and glides over to where Ann had placed her book bag. “It would appear someone wishes to contact you. Your phone is ringing.” He peers down at it, as Ann begins to shuffle her way over. “Someone named… Shiho?”

Ann’s eyes widen. “What?” She struggles against the kimono’s restrictions and hustles the rest of the way to him, snatches the phone from his hand, and answers it. “Hello? Shiho?”

#

“Ready, dude?” Ryuji asks.

“No,” Akira replies.

“Too bad!” Ryuji shouts. “Increasing speed!” His finger darts out and starts to push the appropriate button on his treadmill. Akira lets out a groan and does the same. The kick in speed is gradual for all of a few moments, and then the belt beneath him starts to really spin. His knees lift higher as he turns his light jog into a full on sprint.

“Hold it!” Ryuji calls, the words coming in puffs of air. “Just a bit longer!”

The sprint lasts a good thirty seconds, which is thirty seconds longer than Akira is comfortable with, and Ryuji says, “Decrease speed!” Akira dials back on the correct button, and the hum from the treadmill lowers in volume, until he’s back at a light jog. He does this for a few moments, then sputters out, “I need a break.”

“Same.”

Both boys switch off their treadmills and climb down.

Akira doubles over and rests his hands on his knees. Ryuji pats him on the back. “C’mon, man. Now’s the perfect time to stretch.”

Akira groans again and follows Ryuji over to the mats in the corner. As they walk, he takes in the gym once more. It’s a nice place. He was surprised Ryuji had found an affordable one in the heart of Shibuya. The place wasn’t very crowded, and the machines looked well-maintained and clean.

“Not bad, right?” Ryuji asks, smirking, as he lowers himself onto the mad and kicks out one of his legs.

“Not bad at all,” Akira replies, assuming the same position as his friend.

“Sorry about dragging you here right after exams,” Ryuji says. “You’d probably rather celebrate, but I needed to blow off some steam.”

“It’s cool,” Akira says, shrugging. “I think I needed to do the same.”

“You okay?” Ryuji asks. “About everything from last night, I mean.”

Akira shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at Ann.”

“Yeah, but she shouldn’t have brought up that stuff. Besides, you weren’t really wrong. She should’ve told us about Kitagawa. Wonder how that’s going.”

“Still,” Akira replies. “I could’ve handled it better.” Then, a few beats pass, and Akira says, “Do you think what I told you guys about my father was a lie?”

Ryuji takes a deep breath and blows it out in a big huff. “I don’t think you are. And even _if_ you are, I’m sure you’ve got a good reason. It’s not like I advertise that my old man used to hit my mom and me.”

Akira doesn’t say anything for a time. When Ryuji switches legs, his eyes widen and he turns to look at Akira. “Oh, dude! I forgot because of exams, but did you see that thing last night?”

“You mean that special with Akechi?” Akira asks, with a frown.

“Yeah, that dickhead!” When Akira nods, Ryuji barrels onwards. “Can you believe what that tool was saying about us? First he called us a ‘juvenile Tatterdemalion rip-off,’ or something, and then makes us out to be this evil group who’s going to brain-screw everyone!”

“Brain-screw?” Akira asks.

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. He basically said we were the bad guys.”

Akira leans a little more on the leg he’s stretching. “I actually thought he was going to side with us, at first. Then he did a total one-eighty and said we were ‘holding society hostage.”

“Yeah! What’s up with that?” Ryuji growls. “He’s supposed to be this big-shot Detective Prince, whatever the hell that is, but I didn’t see him anywhere when we were taking down Kamoshida! All that shit he was talking about how ‘we’re a just society’ and crap _sounds_ great, but I bet he’d shut his mouth around Shiho. Or Mishima. Or anyone else Kamoshida hurt. He can blab about how change is slow or whatever all he wants, but how’s that help the people hurting _now_?”

“I hear you,” Akira says, and glances around the gym. It’s not very crowded. “Well, whatever. Let him talk about helping people. We’re actually doing it.”

Ryuji grins, and holds out a fist. “Hell yeah!”

Akira smiles and bumps it.

His phone vibrates, and he pulls it out.

“Dude, did you run with that thing in your pocket?” Ryuji asks, wide-eyed.

“Uh, yeah?”

Ryuji shakes his head. “Bad idea, dude. That’s a good way to end up with a broken phone.”

“It’s Ann,” Akira says, when he looks at the screen. “Do you think she’s done with the painting thing already?”

Ryuji shrugs. “How should I know?”

Akira answers. “Hello?”

Ann’s voice is shaky. “Hey, so I know you’re mad at me, but I can’t reach Ryuji, so I’m sorry but-”

“Ryuji’s here with me,” Akira says. “We’re at the gym in Shibuya.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. That’s good. Listen, I need you guys. So, just don’t be mad anymore, okay? I need you guys to come to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Akira asks. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Ryuji’s eyes widen even more.

“It’s not me,” Ann says. “It’s Shiho. Just, please, come here!”

Akira looks over at Ryuji. “We’re on our way.”

#

They stand in a huddle outside Room 345.

"I'm confused," Ryuji says, hands shoved in his pockets. "Why is he here, again?"

Yusuke Kitagawa blinks. "I could ask the same of you, you uncouth youth."

"What'd you say?" Ryuji growls. He takes a threatening step forward.

Ann smacks him on the shoulder. "Knock it off, Ryuji. I was with Yusuke when Shiho called. I was so freaked out that he offered to come with me."

Ryuji crosses his arms. "Yeah, well he should watch what he says."

"You don't even know what 'uncouth' means," Ann blurts.

"Well, it doesn't sound good!"

"Indeed, it is not," Yusuke replies.

"See?"

"Hey!" Akira states. "Enough, already." Morgana squirms in his bag. The cat had been stationed outside the gym, and had been shocked when Akira and Ryuji had burst out and collected him up, citing some emergency at the hospital. "How's Shiho?"

Ann glares at him. "Not good. That bitch really rattled her up."

Yusuke frowns. "I fail to see how a visit from the Student Council President could elicit such an extreme reaction. Is Suzui perhaps, a problem student?"

"Hell no!" Ryuji replies, and turns to Ann. "How much did you tell him?"

"Not much," Ann says. "Look, Yusuke. Shiho's my best friend. She had... an accident a few weeks ago and has been here ever since. Apparently, _Niijima_ thought she was involved in something she wasn't, and came here to harass her."

Yusuke nods. "How reprehensible."

"You got that right," Ann says. She steps out from their little huddle and grabs Akira's sleeve. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

The look she gives him makes him want to refuse, but he nods and follows her.

"We'll wait here," Ryuji calls after them. "And text you if something happens."

"Thanks," Ann says, over her shoulder.

Ann leads Akira to a stairwell, and steps inside. She leans over the landing, and peeks down the dizzying throat of the hospital. Then, she glances upward and calls out, "Hello? Anyone there?" When no reply comes, she whirls around on Akira and crosses her arms. "It's time to cut the bullshit, Akira."

Morgana pokes his head free of the bag. "This isn't the time for division, Lady Ann. We need to-"

"I'm not talking about last night," Ann replies, a scowl across her face. "I'm talking about today. I'm talking about right now. I'm talking about the issue the Phantom Thieves have had since day one, that our leader refuses to put a stop to once and for all. I'm talking about-"

"Makoto," Akira finishes.

Ann's mouth shuts, slowly. Then she nods. "That's right. Makoto Niijima."

Akira sighs. "Ann, I'm sorry about what happened with Shiho. I really am. But we need to-"

"Stop it!" Ann shouts, and the words echo through the stairwell. "Just, stop it." She unfolds her arms and points one, long finger into Akira's face. "The _only_ reason you haven't ditched her completely is because you _like_ her. Even though she's investigating us. Even though she’s against us. You want to keep seeing her. _You like her_."

"Ann, I-"

"Admit it!"

"C'mon, Ann, don't be-"

"Admit it!"

"Fine!" Akira yells, and throws his hands into the air. "Okay? I fucking like her. Are you happy now?"

"Guys, calm down," Morgana hisses.

"No, I'm not happy, Akira! Because your would-be girlfriend just came into a hospital and harassed my best friend! My best friend, who has been _raped_ and _traumatized_! Are you so freaking love-struck that you don't see how bad that is? Do you seriously not get it?"

"Of course I do. It's horrible! But-"

"It's beyond horrible, Akira. She crossed a line." Ann's voice rises as she speaks, and begins to crack. "Shiho's been through enough, understand? She doesn't deserve to be roped back into all this crap!"

"I know, Ann. And I'm sorr-"

"No. No more." Ann shakes her head, and presses her knuckles into her eyes as the tears begin to fall. "I listened to you, because you're our leader. But I'm putting my foot down." Ann takes a long, deep breath. "I'm a Phantom Thief, Akira. I care about what we're doing. But if you don't cut Makoto Niijima out of your life, then I'm done."

Akira's mouth hangs partly open. For whatever reason, he begins to rub his fingers together.

"Lady Ann," Morgana says. "You can't really mean that."

"I do, Morgana. I _really_ do."

Akira finds his voice. "I know this looks bad, Ann. But she didn't mean to hurt Shiho. I think she's just confused and frustrated and-"

"She didn't _mean_ to? Just like she didn't mean to punch you in the face, right? Oh, but I forgot, that kind of turns you on. And just like she didn't mean to agree to investigate us for the Principal? I'm sure there's a great story behind that too. Maybe she didn't _mean_ to do any of that. Any of this. _But she did_."

Akira's tongue feels too large for his mouth. His throat hurts. There's a pressure behind his eyes that he can't blink away. "I-"

"It's time to make a choice, _Leader_. Akira. Joker. Whatever. Decide. Right now, no more waiting. No more of your crap.” Ann’s eyes never blink. "Me? Or her?"

#

Yusuke returns to the atelier, slinks his way through its dilapidated halls, and drops into the sole chair in his room. _What an utterly depressing day_.

There's a knock on his door.

Yusuke pushes himself to his feet. "Come in, Sensei."

The door slides open and Madarame steps inside, brows furrowed in concern. "Ah, Yusuke. Thank goodness you're alright. The school called and told me you had dashed off campus in a rush. Is everything alright?"

Yusuke shakes his head at his own foolishness. "Oh, I'm very sorry I didn't call, Sensei. I got so caught up in events, that it never crossed my mind."

Madrame smiles and waves the comment away. "Please, it's perfectly fine. I'm just glad you're okay. But what happened?"

Yusuke sits back down and recounts the events of the day. "Ann was so upset, that I offered to help her get to the hospital."

Madarame beams. "That was a very considerate thing to do, Yusuke. I hope the poor girl is alright?"

Yusuke shrugs. "I can't say with certainty. Ann was reluctant to specify _how_ her friend got to the hospital, but I gathered it was an unpleasant topic."

"These things often are," Madarame replies. "Might I ask how the painting is coming along?"

The air feels like it seeps from Yusuke's body. "I'm sorry, Sensei. It was a failure. Ann is beautiful, but I was unable to convey it to the canvas."

Madarame chuckles. "How often must I tell you this, my boy? Failure is a far more valuable teacher than success. Do you recall every stroke you made upon the parchment?" Yusuke nods. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

"I believe so."

"Then, you simply must commit this lesson to memory, and take it upon yourself to do better next time."

Yusuke takes a deep breath, and a bit of the tension leaves him. "You are right, of course." Then, he remembers. "I hope you don't mind, Sensei, but I invited Ann and her friends to your gallery this coming week. She seemed quite taken with your work. She mentioned the _'Sayuri_.'"

"Well, of course it's alright," Madarame says, and pats Yusuke on the shoulder. "It is always refreshing to find young people actually interested in art. Too often, it feels like the realm of old men like me. When they arrive, please, introduce them to me."

Yusuke smiles. "I will, Sensei. Thank you."

Madarame nods and moves to leave. "Well, I'll leave you to it, Yusuke. I'm sure you've some work you still wish to do."

"Indeed," Yusuke says, and glances at the assortment of brushes and paint tubes shoved into the corner. "Um, Sensei?"

"Yes?" Madarame asks.

"Well, I did not foresee my trip to the hospital today. Ann was in such a panic, that we rushed the whole way there. It was... taxing. I know I did not succeed in my task of completing the portrait today, but I wonder if I still might have some dinner?"

Madarame's smile doesn't shift. "Yusuke, my boy. We've talked about this. Hunger. Pain. Absence. It is through these avenues that the muse enters and possesses us. To surrender to ease is to abandon our hope of understanding what truly makes art, _art_. You may have your allotted meal tomorrow morning, and not before."

Yusuke sighs and stands, smiling. "Of course, Sensei. Forgive me for such a foolish question."

Madarame shakes his head. "There's nothing to forgive. That is why I am here, to guide you on the path of the artist."

Yusuke nods. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. Goodnight, my boy."

Madarame slides the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Hope everyone enjoyed their weekends. I'll be getting to the comments/reviews I didn't get to soon, and as always, thanks for reading!


	39. Bad Guys

5/15

Ohya's phone rings.

Her mouth tastes of ash, and a horse bucks about in her skull. Her limbs ache.

Ohya's phone continues to ring.

She groans as she rolls over, and manages to snatch up her phone just before it vibrates off the nightstand and onto the filthy, blue carpet.

"What?" She moans as she answers it.

"It's me," comes a voice.

Ohya throws an arm of her eyes to shield herself from the light sneaking in through the shades. "Oh my god. Whoever this is better start making sense or I'm hanging this shit up!"

There's a pause on the other line. Then, "I found out who Yusuke Kitagawa is."

Ohya wrestles the horse in her brain under control and forces herself to think. _It's that dumb kid from the bar. The one who thinks he's slick_.

"So," she says. "Who is he?"

"Madarame's apprentice."

"Don't get excited," Ohya mutters. "That was an easy one. What else?"

"What'd you mean?"

Ohya rolls onto her stomach and buries her face in her pillow. "Kid," she shouts. "I'm not your teacher. This isn't a test. _What did you get out of Yusuke Kitagawa?_ "

"I...uh-"

"You got nothing. Wow. Amazing. Incredible work there, champ."

"I thought you wanted me to figure out who he was?"

"Yes! But you weren't supposed to stop there. You were supposed to dig something up on your own. That's why I gave you the lead in the first place."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Ohya replies, then sighs. "What time is it anyway?"

"It's a little after nine."

"Why the hell are you calling me so early?"

"I mean, it's not _that_ early."

"Kids," Ohya grumbles and pushes herself out of bed. Dressed only in her t-shirt and underwear, she schleps her way through her overheated apartment to the bathroom, where she promptly turns on the water, waits for it to get as cold, then splashes some on her face, before she sticks her mouth beneath the faucet and takes a long gulp. "Is there any other reason you called me?" She asks, once this is all done.

"I..." The kid says, and Ohya gets the feeling that rather than having nothing, he's debating whether he should hold something back.

"Spill it!" She growls.

"I got invited to Madarame's gallery showing this week," he spits.

Ohya looks at herself in her bathroom mirror. An unfortunately familiar face returns her stare. "How'd you manage that?"

"Yusuke Kitagawa invited me."

"So, you didn't _just_ find out who he was. You actually met him?" _This kid may not be so bad after all_.

"That's right."

"That's...good. That's real good." _Coffee. I need coffee!_ She can come up with something. She knows she can! She just has to have that caffeine kick. "Listen up, I'll reach out to you soon. Just be ready. You may just prove valuable after all."

"Wait, you don't have my-" The kid starts to say, but Ohya hangs up.

She smiles down at the now silent phone in her hand. "Don't you worry about that, kid."

#

Makoto steps out of the Aoyama-Itchome station. She steps away from the milling crowds, and up to the window of a department store, then adjusts her white blouse. _I look fine_ , she thinks. She doesn't move. There's a twisting knot in her chest, coiling itself around and around itself, growing in size. When she'd gotten the text, she had prepared. She had made herself presentable. She had done the best she could with the clothes she'd owned. This would be the first time he would see her outside of school. Outside the Shujin uniform. She had to make some kind of good impression.

_Liar_.

She winces as the image of Shiho Suzui slices through her mind, and the screams she had belted at Makoto echo in her ears.

She knows why she got that message. There can't be any other reason.

Earlier this morning, Akira had sent her a simple text.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: We need to talk._

That single sentence had punched through Makoto like an iron rod.

It hadn't taken long for Makoto to deduce what had probably happened. Shiho had called Ann, who had called Akira. And now Akira, 'wanted to talk.'

_The jig is up_. Someone had said that once, hadn't they? Makoto can't remember who.

Shiho's outburst had terrified Makoto. She had retreated back home, gone into her room, and sat on her bed, staring at nothing, just replaying the scene again and again in her mind. The words of the nurse would punctuate each iteration. _What did you do?_

What _had_ she done? Re-traumatized Shiho Suzui, and for what? To figure out if Akira was a Phantom Thief? Wasn't that the same reason she was disobeying Sae? The same reason she was lying to Haru?

_I'm a liar_. That's all she is.

Well, it was time to come clean. Makoto had agreed to a meet-up, and Akira had told her to come to the school. Being Sunday, they could be alone for the most part.

She was going to confess. She was going to tell him everything. Everything about the Principal. Everything about her tracking him. Everything misstep and stupid mistake she'd made.

_And then?_

And then, whatever happened, happened.

She weaves her way through Aoyama-Itchome, and approaches Shujin. Akira had texted her to meet just inside the school’s front entrance.

Makoto tries to push down the trepidation she feels. It was time to get off this rickety rollercoaster she'd boarded. This isn't who she is. This isn't who she wants to be.

She turns and enters Shujin's school gates. She climbs the steps. A few clubs do meet during Sundays, so the front entrance is unlocked. She pushes the door open and sees Akira standing there, hands in his pockets. Light from outside streaks across his glasses, and she cannot see his eyes.

She opens her mouth, "Akira, I-"

She stops. Because she sees who is standing next to Akira.

Ann Takamaki, her face a thunderstorm, steps away from Akira and up to her. Then, without a word, she slaps Makoto across the face.

There is a moment, long in itself but brief in reality, where Makoto's mind switches off. Wholly and completely. All that the gray matter held within her skull can produce is a full cowl of black.

Then, as the pain ricochets across her cheek, going from nerve to nerve, spreading its fire, things snap back on. Her hand drifts up to her face, and presses against the spot where Takamaki has hit her. It lingers there as Makoto turns her head back around, eyes wide, mouth agape.

When Takamaki speaks, her words are needles. "When Shiho called me, I thought she was going to jump again. She wasn't making any sense. She just kept crying and shouting and I didn't know why."

Makoto opens her mouth. "Takamaki, I-"

"I've never been so scared to hang up a phone in my whole life, but I couldn't run the whole way to the hospital with it up to my ear. So I hung up on her, and I thought, 'I might never hear her voice again.' I called the hospital, and they told me everything was under control and she wasn't in any danger, but... well, I didn't trust them."

Makoto finds she can do nothing but wait for Ann's speech to end.

"When I got there, and got into the room, I finally got the full story. She told me _you_ had been there. That you'd been asking her questions about when I had really been to see her last." Ann shakes her head, and her face twists into a look of utter bafflement. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, Takamaki," Makoto blurts out, and looks over at Akira. "Akira, I-"

" _Don't_ ," Ann says, stepping into her line of sight. "Don't look at him." She crosses her arms across her chest. "For someone at the top of their class, you really are an idiot Niijima-senpai. I've had enough. I thought it was kind of cute at first. But you crossed the line."

Makoto stares at Ann. "Cute?" She asks.

"Your whole, 'following Akira' routine. Forcing him to the study sessions. Following him around Shibuya. Did you think you were sneaky?"

Makoto blinks. "I-" But she can't finish the thought. _What's going on? Did they know I was investigating the Phantom Thieves?_

"Sure," Ann says, shrugging. "I thought it was a little mean of Akira to not turn you down right away, but he kept saying that he didn't want to hurt your feelings. Boys are dumb that way." She takes a step closer to Makoto. "Girls know, it's better to just get things over with."

"Look, I made a mistake," Makoto says. "I didn't meant to scare Shiho, but I had to know about-"

"You had to know about Akira and me so badly that you harassed a bedridden girl who had just gotten out of a coma?" Ann yells.

"Akira and you?" Makoto asks. "What're you talking about?"

Ann rolls her eyes. "Don't play dumb. You must've figured it out by now." She stares down at Makoto, who feels smaller than she ever has. When Makoto doesn't answer, Ann blinks. "Really? Then I'll spell it out for you."

_This is it_ , Makoto thinks. _She's going to admit she's a Phantom Thief. That's-_

Ann leans into Makoto's face and says, "Akira is my boyfriend."

The sun winks out.

The earth falls away.

The wind dies.

Her chest hurts.

"Wh-what?" She manages. Her mouth is dry.

"He knew you liked him. Anyone could tell," Ann continues. "But he felt so bad about it, because you helped him study, that he wanted to wait to tell you. So, when you kept poking around, he got Ryuji and me to help throw you off the trail. I told him I wanted him to just be straight, but he _begged_ me to help him with this."

Makoto remembers his smirk.

Makoto remembers the lilt to his voice.

Makoto remembers how he's looked at her.

Makoto remembers that day on the roof, behind the A/C unit.

Makoto remembers being pressed up against him, her hand on his chest, as he leaned his head forward, towards hers.

Makoto remembers smiley face.

Makoto remembers winkey face.

"That's not true," Makoto says, and her voice is small and she hates how it sounds. She defies Ann and looks past her, towards Akira. He stands there, hands balled into fists, head drooped forward, eyes on the ground. He denies nothing. "Akira," she says.

A few seconds drag their way by.

And then.

"I'm sorry," he says.

And then something shatters.

She fights against it. "No. That's not true. Why would you hide it?"

Ann barks out a laugh. "Right. The transfer student everyone thinks is a dangerous criminal, dating the girl everyone thinks is a slut. That would go over _so well_ in this piece of shit school."

"B-but," Makoto manages. "The Phantom Thieves?"

Ann's face grows quizzical. "What about the Phantom Thieves?"

"They... that is..." Could all this really be true? Could all the deceptions be because Akira _was_ dating Ann, and hadn't wanted to hurt her?

"You know what?" Ann asks. "I've had enough. Here's what's going to happen. Drop whatever crazy obsession you have with my boyfriend, and go get your own. No more texts. No more stalking. It's not cute, Niijima-senpai. It's _creepy_. And leave Shiho alone. Don't go near her. Don't look at her when she does come back. Don't even _think_ about her." She turns away from Makoto, and walks up to Akira. Then, she reaches out, grabs one of Akira's hands, and entwines her fingers with his. "Let's go, Akira. I've had enough of this jerk."

Makoto stares at their hands, wrapped together. She feels sick.

Ann and Akira walk past her. As they head away from her, Takamaki says, “You’re a bad person, Niijima-senpai.”

"Akira!" Makoto says, spinning around.

But he doesn't look back. He doesn't reply.

Akira and Ann push their way out the door. It clangs shut behind them.

Makoto shuffles her way over to the wall, leans her back against it, and slides down until she's sitting on the floor. She controls her breathing. _Breathe in. Breathe out_. She tries to gentle her thoughts, even as they race. She tries to maintain her control.

The tears come anyway.

#

They are almost to the station when Akira rips his hand free of Ann's. She doesn't protest.

"That," Akira says, staring at the concrete he treads upon. "That was _mean_."

"Good," Ann replies.

"Ann," Akira says, turning to her. Ann stops and faces him, crossing her arms across her chest. "I understand that she went too far. I know she freaked Shiho out, and that's awful. But she-"

"Oh for crying out loud!" Ann says, shaking her head. "Are you _still_ trying to defend her?"

"I'm trying to understand! I'm trying to get everyone to understand!" He looks back towards the school, the top of which pops out over the top of a few buildings behind them. "We didn't need to do that to her."

"You could've let her down gently weeks ago, Akira," Ann replies. "After Kamoshida. Even after Nakanohara. But you didn't. You kept stringing her along."

"I wasn't 'stringing her along.'" He feels his face scrunch up, and his voice hitches. "I really like her."

"You made your choice, Akira. Are you going back on it?" Ann asks.

He had stared at her for a long time, in that hospital stairwell. Hoping that she would take it back. But the longer he waited, the more he realized that Ann really was serious. If he didn't stop... whatever he was doing with Makoto, Ann Takamaki would leave the Phantom Thieves.

"Okay," he had said. "Okay."

He shakes his head and looks back up at her. "I'm not going back on it, Ann. But we could've done that differently."

"This way she backs off. She thinks she's been stalking just a couple of lovebirds, and she thinks that that's what we think too."

Akira shakes his head. "No. We could've done it another way. You wanted to _hurt_ her, Ann."

"She deserved it!" Ann spits. "For what she did to Shiho yesterday!"

He continues to shake his head, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "We could've done that better. We're not supposed to be the bad guys, Ann." He stalks off towards the train. "We're not the bad guys."

Ann falls in alongside him, and they proceed to the station in silence.

They split up in silence as well. Akira trudges through Yongen-jaya to LeBlanc, and up the steps without so much as a 'hello' to Sojiro.

Morgana sits on the bed, and stands when Akira enters. "How'd it go?" He asks, his voice wary.

"It was hard."

"Are you okay?"

Akira looks at the cat and shakes his head. "Not really." He sits down at his desk, and Morgana leaps down from the bed, trots over, and hops up into his lap. "I just," Akira begins. "I think I could've done things differently. Like Lala-chan said, I think I could've been honest."

"But Makoto was investigating us," Morgana says. "For the Principal."

"I don't know..."

"If she was on our side, why didn't she come forward right away?" Morgana asks. "Why didn't she say something right after Kobayakowa told her to look into us?"

"I don't know," Akira repeats. "Maybe she didn't think I'd believe her?"

"Is that a way you can afford to think?" Morgana asks. "If Makoto came up to you, and told you, 'Akira, the Principal asked me to investigate the Phantom Thieves, and I think that's you,' what would you do? Would you admit it?"

"Probably."

"And what if Makoto was against the whole time? You just told her you were a Phantom Thief. What if she took that right back to the Principal?"

"What do you want me to say, Morgana?" Akira asks, an edge sliding into his voice. "I don't know how to do this. I'm not..." But he trails off. _I'm not like him_.

"Maybe we can revisit this later," Morgana says. "But what's done is done. We need to focus on Madarame right now. You've got that gallery-thing on Wednesday, and you need to prepare."

Akira sighs. "Ohya said she'd be in contact, but I don't know how, considering she doesn't know who I am, or have my number. And is it really a good idea to show up to this?"

"We need dirt on Madarame. We know he has a Palace, but we don't know any of the other keywords. If we're around him, maybe he'll let something slip."

"Yeah, you're right. Just gotta focus."

And in the back of his mind, he hears his father's voice.

_That's right, son. Focus on what matters. So what if you break a few hearts along the way?_

Akira leans forward onto his desk, and shuts his eyes. In the black, he sees the stricken face of Makoto Niijima, her eyes begging him for it all not to be true.

"Dammit," he chokes out.

#

Makoto slams her fist into the punching bag, and imagines it is Akira Kurusu's face.

She had forgotten how good this feels.

It was all bullshit, of course. Once her eyes had dried out, and she'd taken a minute to _think_ , she’d realized it.

As she had walked back to the station, she had called Haru, and between her sobs, had explained what happened.

Haru's response had been uncompromising. "I will _obliterate_ him." Haru had offered her what Makoto imagined were the proper condolences, and suggested they meet up and eat something bad for them, like ice cream or candy, but Makoto had just wanted to go home.

Once there, she'd cried some more.

But now?

She was done with tears.

So, she used her brain.

And her fists.

She throws a haymaker against the bag, and takes a deep breath.

There was no way Akira Kurusu was dating Ann Takamaki. It didn't add up.

Takamaki's acting had been the first red flag. It wasn't that it was bad, but it was stiff. When Takamaki had been haranguing Makoto about Shiho, everything had felt so genuine. But once they’d crossed over to the ‘Akira is my boyfriend’ topic, the girl had exaggerated her every motion. When that overly confused look crossed her face, and she's said, 'What about the Phantom Thieves?' Makoto had known, even if she hadn’t realized it at the time.

She sees it now. Ann had been banking on Makoto being so _devastated_ that she wouldn't think things through. Makoto drives the heel of her foot into the bag, and imagines instead, that it is Ann's mean face. _I'm not at the top of my class for nothing, Takamaki_.

Who in the _hell_ would go through so much trouble to convince someone else they _weren't_ dating someone? Did they expect her to believe that _everything_ that had happened the day Takanashi's heart changed was all to throw her off the trail of Akira and Ann's relationship?

_Maybe they really aren't the Phantom Thieves. I find it hard to believe the people who took down Kamoshida could be that dumb!_ She punctuates this thought with another punch to the bag.

That’s not all, though. She remembers the last few weeks vividly. For all her missteps, for all the fear she’s felt and horror she’s witnessed, they have been some of her happiest. She cannot imagine, that after _everything_ she went through with Akira, that he was just stringing her along this entire time. Akira Kurusu _was_ a Phantom Thief, and this was just another tactic to throw her off. _He thinks he can look at me the way that he does and smile at me the way that he does and then pretend to have been dating_ Takamaki _this whole time? Oh, I could kill him!_

An older man, one of her unfortunate neighbors from upstairs, walks past the mat she works on and calls, "C'mon sweetie, don't look so glum. Can I get a smile?"

Makoto feels an engine rev inside her chest, and she turns a snarl on the man. "Back off!"

He pales in a considerably appealing manner, and scurries away.

She turns her attention back to the bag, and lets her mind go blank as she attacks it.

Her subconscious continues her preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, it's Friday! Pretty boring chapter, right? Not much going on. Oh well.
> 
> An aside, I finally got around to looking at the 'Bookmarks' for Crimson on ao3. Some of you said some very nice things, so thank you! I appreciate it!
> 
> For curiosity's sake, is anyone participating in NanoWrimo? We're just over halfway done with November, after all. How are your novels coming?
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! You are all the last ace in a lost hand. (That's the line, right?)


	40. Groundwork

5/16

Akira trudges his way towards Shujin. A light drizzle darkens the pavement. Umbrella in hand, cat in bag, he continues on. Two boys, dressed in Shujin uniforms, walk ahead of him. Their words snatch Akira's attention.

"...thing with Akechi the other night?"

"Yeah, talk about crazy! Do you really think the Phantom Thieves would do what he says?"

"Man, I'm not even sure I believe in the Phantom Thieves."

"What? Seriously, how can you-"

But then, there is the familiar sound of a picture being taken, and Akira's attention is broken. He whips his head around and finds Ohya, leaning against a streetlight, lowering a blocky camera from her face. She smiles.

Apparently unconcerned with the rain, she says, "Hi!"

 _Shit!_ Akira looks around, but isn't quite sure what he's hoping to see, then gives up and beelines over to the woman. "What're you doing here? How'd you find me?"

Ohya frowns and glances up at the clouds. "Yes, how did I manage to find you? How did _I_ , the investigative journalist, manage to track down the boy I already knew attended Shujin? What a conundrum." She chuckles at herself, then holds up a single finger. "Journalism one-oh-one, kid. Sometimes, to get what you want, you have to sit in one place for a long time and wait for it to walk past."

Akira rolls his eyes. "I thought journalism one-oh-one was 'protect your sources' and 'tell the truth.'"

"Meh," Ohya replies, with a shrug. "There's a couple one-oh-ones."

"Fine, whatever. What're you doing here?"

Ohya nods towards the school, just down the road. "Let's walk and talk. Don't want you to be late." She steps out into the road with a yawn, and Akira falls in alongside her. "So," she says, voice low. "You've got the Madarame thing on Wednesday, yeah?"

"I do."

"Cool," Ohya says. "I'm going to need you to hack his phone."

Akira stops. "Wait, what?"

Ohay turns back to him, brows furrowed. "Did you not hear me?"

"No, I heard you. I just-"

"What?" Ohya asks. "You're the one who called me from an unregistered number. I thought you were all about this clandestine crap."

"But I don't know how to hack a phone!"

Ohya groans and shakes her head. "Yeah, I figured as much. Look, I've already taken care of that part. All you have to do is get close to him."

"What'd you mean?" Akira asks.

Ohya reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, boxy device, and jiggles it before his eyes. "See this button on the side?" Akira spots it and nods. "When you're close to Madarame, press it." She hands it to him.

Akira turns it over in his palm. "This isn't a bomb, is it?" He asks, remembering Ryuji's criticism about Iwai's package.

"Are you joking?" Ohya asks, eyes widening.

"Never mind," Akira replies, shaking his head. "What exactly is this? What does it do? Where'd you get it?"

Ohya pats the air with her hands. "Easy there, inspector. One question at a time. Look, it's simple. You press the button, and the device locks onto the nearest phone less than a meter away. So, make sure there's no other phone close by, especially yours. Turn it off. What it does, is mirror the GPS of the target phone, and sends the data back to a remote source, which happens to be a device _I_ have access to. As to where I got it, I got a guy."

"You've got a guy?"

Ohya nods. "I got a guy."

"You have a 'mirror a phone's GPS' guy?"

She lets out a frustrated groan. "And you've got a 'Phantom Thieves website admin' guy. Are we gonna plan this, or keep comparing our guys?"

They reach the front gates of Shujin, and the rain begins to lessen. Ohya runs her fingers through her hair, and yawns once more. A few students heading into the entrance stare at the two as they pass, and Akira groans internally. _Great, another rumor about me_.

"So, okay," Akira says. "Why, exactly, am I doing this?"

"Why are you mirroring Madarame's phone's GPS?" Ohya asks. Akira nods. "You tell me. What reason would someone have to mirror a phone's GPS?"

Akira thinks for a moment. "You want to know where they're going."

Ohya nods. "Aaaaannnnnddddd?" She drawls.

"You want to know where they've been."

"Bingo," Ohya replies. "You in?"

Akira mulls it over for a moment, then mumbles, "I'm in. But, isn't this all illegal?"

Ohya laughs and shakes her head. "Oh, man. So illegal." She glares at him. "Don't tell me that bothers you?"

"I don't really want to get into it, but I'd prefer if we did things above board."

"Kid, you've got a small little keychain thingy in your pocket, not a knife. Don't go waving it around and you'll be fine."

Akira shoves down his trepidation and nods. "Okay."

"Perfect. I'll-"

A voice cuts in. "Kurusu!" Akira turns without thinking and finds Kawakami-sensei heading down the steps, frowning.

"Huh," Ohya says, grinning. "So your name is Kurusu, eh?"

Akira scowls, but manages to smudge it away by the time Kawakami reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning, Kawakami-sensei."

"Good morning," she says, frowning. "You're usually early. I was beginning to suspect you were going to cut school again.”

"Again?" Ohya asks, and she takes an exaggerated gasp.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Akira replies, through gritted teeth.

"Who is this?" Kawakami asks, eyeing Ohya.

"This is," Akira starts, and spins his mind once more. "Uh, my cousin."

"That's right!" Ohya replies, and throws an arm over Akira's shoulders. "I thought I'd walk him to school today. Isn't that right, cuz?"

Akira tries to smile, and what ends up on his face is close enough. "Uh-huh."

Kawakami's brows furrow. "Okay. Well, it's almost time for homeroom. I trust you'll be there?"

Akira nods and is about to say something to exit the conversation, when another voice erupts into his eardrums. "Yo, Akira!"

Akira shuts his eyes. _Ryuji, goddammit_.

Ryuji trots up to the three of them, his smile wide. "Hey, Kawakami-sensei," he says.

"Sakamoto," Kawakami replies, with a nod.

Ryuji looks over at Ohya, and the arm she has around Akira's shoulder. "Who's this lady, Akira?"

"Yes, _Akira_ ," Ohya says, her grin somehow bigger than it was before. "Tell him who I am."

"This," Akira says, jabbing at Ohya with his eyes. "Is my _cousin_ , Ohya. I've told you about _Ohya_ , right?"

"Oh," Ryuji says. His eyes widen. "Oh! Oh, uh, yeah. Yep, that is something you have told me about."

Kawakami rolls her eyes and sighs. "You know what? I can't with you two right now. Get to class." She turns and stalks her way back up the steps.

Ohya removes her arm from around Akira's shoulder and moves away. "We'll be in touch, Akira Kurusu. I'm looking forward to it, Akira Kurusu. Bye, _Akira Kurusu!_ " Then, laughing, she takes off down the road.

Ryuji and Akira stand at the entrance of Shujin, watching her retreat.

"So," Ryuji says, after a time. "Just so I'm clear, that _wasn't_ your cousin, right?"

"Bonehead," Akira hears Morgana whisper from his bag.

#

Haru sits across from Makoto in their cafe. That Makoto has already begun to think of it as 'their' cafe brings a warm feeling to her chest, even as what she's about to do terrifies her.

"So," Haru continues. "I'm thinking that the best way would be a fire. In his home, preferably. Arson, as I understand it, however, is easy to prove, so we'll have to take precautions to the extent that-"

"Haru?" Makoto says.

Haru glances up from the coaster upon which she plots their revenge. "What is it, Mako-chan?"

"I need to tell you something," she says.

The night before had been a long one. After her workout, she had spent a lot of time in her room, watching and re-watching her favorite movies. She is tired, but resolute.

"A little while ago, Principal Kobayakowa asked me to investigate the Phantom Thieves. He told me that if I didn’t, he would withhold my letter of recommendation. He suspected Akira Kurusu was among them. I didn't want to, but I'd been growing close to Akira, so I figured I'd look into it regardless. I wanted to... well, to be honest, I'm not sure what I wanted to do. Maybe I wanted to help. Maybe I just wanted to play games. So, when I asked for your help, it was because I was hoping your working relationship with Akira would provide some clue into his activities as a Phantom Thief. I lied to you. I'm very sorry."

She glances up at Haru's face, and watches as a range of emotions pass over it. Confusion in wide eyes, hurt in a pouted lip, anger in furrowed brows, and then, resignation in closed eyes and a deep breath. "I see," Haru finally says.

"But, hanging out with you has been really fun. I don't... I don't have many friends. Actually, I don't think I have any friends, not anymore. So, please know that while my initial intentions were bad, being your friend has been great." She sighs. "I'm sorry, that didn't sound so good. I'm-"

"Do you like him?" Haru asks, cutting Makoto off.

"Huh?" Makoto replies, blinking.

Haru stares at her from across the table. "Do you like him? Or was that a lie too?"

Makoto stares at her, and is silent for a long time. Then, she says, "I like him _so_ much."

There.

Haru nods, as if in confirmation. "I believe you." She takes a deep breath, and holds it.

And holds it.

And holds it.

After about thirty seconds, Makoto asks, "Um, Haru? Are you-" But then Haru releases the air in one large exhale.

She smiles at Makoto. "I forgive you."

Makoto feels her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes."

She cannot help herself. "Why? I lied to you, twice. I haven't been honest with you from the start."

"Because," Haru says, with a small shrug. "You seem like you could use a friend."

Makoto feels something rise behind her eyes, and she manages a meek little, "Thank you."

"Besides," Haru says, with a hint of crimson in her cheeks. "I've enjoyed being with you as well."

They sit in silence for a short time.

Then, Haru asks, "So, _is_ Akira part of the Phantom Thieves?"

Makoto nods. "I don't see how he _couldn't_ be, at this point."

"Then, this whole thing with Takamaki is-"

"A lie."

Haru nods once more. "I knew it." She folds her hands together. "So, what's our plan?"

Makoto feels something hitch inside her chest, and smiles at her friend.

#

Akira slides open the door to 'Untouchable' and steps inside. He sees no customers, but notices the bespectacled boy from the other day behind the counter. He stiffens and nods his head as Akira enters, and blurts out, "Welcome to 'Untouchable,' sir!"

"Uh," Akira replies. It feels _off_ to be greeted so warmly in this place. "Thanks." He looks at the boy for a moment, then says, "Your name was Kaoru, right?"

The boy brightens and nods. "That's right. I know you too. You were here the other day with the pretty girl."

 _Pretty girl? Oh, right. Ann. That's when she slapped me in the face_. He frowns at the memory. "Yeah. So, is your dad home? Or, 'in,' I guess?"

"Nope," Kaoru says, then winks.

"Wait, what?"

"I said," Kaoru replies, "that my dad _definitely_ isn't in right now. No way. He's not in the back room at all."

Akira hears a very loud sigh come from the back room, and a moment later the door opens and Iwai stomps out. "Kaoru," he growls, and fixes the boy with a long, hard stare. "Awful."

Kaoru's smile deflates and his shoulders slump.

Iwai slides past Kaoru and takes his spot at the counter. "What're you doing here, kid? Don't tell me those phones ran out of juice already."

Akira smirks. "You're not gonna scan me?"

Iwai frowns. "I wasn't." Then he bends down and pulls out the paddle-shaped scanner. Akira rolls his eyes and submits to the search. "So," Iwai says once he's done, "What do you want?"

Akira removes the small device Ohya had given him and places it on the counter. "I'd like to know more about this."

Iwai stares at it. So does Kaoru. "What is it?" The older man eventually asks.

Akira shrugs. "I was hoping you could tell me. It's supposed to be able to hack phones."

"Cool!" Kaoru exclaims.

Iwai smacks his kid on the back of the head. "Go in the back and see about that shipment." When the boy hesitates, he growls, "Now." Kaoru slinks away. Once his son is gone, Iwai turns his attention back to Akira. "Why'd you bring it here?"

"I told you," Akira says. "I wanted you to tell me a bit more about it. You seem knowledgeable on all this technical stuff. You got me those burner phones after all, and..." Akira waves his hand across his body, indicating Iwai's paddle-scanner.

The gruff older man shakes his head. "Kid, burner phones are hardly technical. They're just... burner phones. And as for the scanner? Necessary precaution. A three year old could operate it." He reaches out a hand and taps the small, black device. "This kind of thing? After my time."

_After his time?_

Iwai frowns. "Shouldn't you know someone who's good with computers? With whatever vague shit you're into, I figured that would be a given."

Akira sighs and picks up the device from the counter. He _does_ know someone like that, but he had hoped not to involve him. "Alright," Akira replies, resigned. "Thanks." He starts to walk out the door.

"One more thing," Iwai says, an edge to his voice. Akira turns back and suffers the man's glare. "It's about Kaoru." His voice drops. "Don't tell him about this kind of shit. If you swing by and I'm not out front, tell him to get me. I'll send him on an errand or something. But not one damn word to him about what you're into."

Akira sees no room for argument in the man's eyes. He nods, says, "Got it," and walks out the door.

 

5/17

After spending another awkward day in class behind Ann, Akira enters a bedroom. One he certainly never wanted to enter.

_Guess it's time to get this over with._

"And over there," Mishima says, with a bright grin on his face, "Is my set-up!"

Akira takes in the oversized monitor, bulky tower, sleek black keyboard, jagged mouse, and smiles. "Very cool," he says.

The rest of the room is sparse by comparison. It's evident where Mishima's interest lies. A simple bed, and dresser. An empty nightstand. A lamp next to the computer. There's no bookshelf or television or anything. Spartan, save for the computer.

Mishima drops into the chair by his computer and spins around to face him. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Akira digs the small device out of his pocket and shows it to Mishima. He briefly explains what it is supposed to do, according to Ohya, without giving away any details as to where he got it and why he needed it. As he speaks, Mishima's eyes widen.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims, and holds out his hand, like a cup. Akira drops the device into them, and Mishima brings it up to his face and stares at it, with something just shy of reverence. "I've heard of this thing before. Well, I've heard of something like it."

"Will it do what it's supposed to?" Akira asks.

"You mean mirror a phone's GPS?" Mishima replies, then nods without waiting for a response. "It should."

"So then," Akira says. "All I have to do is hold it near someone's phone and press the button, right?"

Mishima shrugs. "I dunno."

Akira's eyes narrow. "You just said-"

"I said I've heard of something like it before," Mishima replies. "I've never seen one in action. If that's what someone told you it would do, I don't know why it would do anything different."

Akira stares at the little device. _I don't think Ohya would lie about it. But I'd feel better if I knew for certain_. "Is there a way for you to prove it?"

"We could use it on my phone. Then we'd know if it worked."

"I... don't think that's a good idea," Akira says. He leans against the wall of Mishima's room and sighs. Then, an idea pops into his head. “Let’s say there are two phones in the vicinity of the device. One that has a GPS function, and one that doesn’t. If I were to press the button, but the one without the GPS was closer, would it copy that phone?”

Mishima gives him a strange look. “Well, it would still copy the phone with the GPS. It’s searching for the GPS signal, not just a phone’s signal. If the one that’s closest doesn’t have the GPS signal, it would search for the phone with the nearest GPS signal.”

Akira nods, and smiles. "Alright, fine. I suppose I'll take a chance then." He holds out his hand, and Mishima returns the device.

"Who're you going to use it on?" Mishima whispers. His expression brightens. "Is it that Madarame guy?"

Akira smiles. "You'll see." _Let him stew on that_. Then he eyes the computer. "Care to show me how to operate the PhanSite now?"

"Sure!" Mishima says, and spins around towards his computer. "Come on over!"

Akira slides up next to him and watches as Mishima launches into a detailed description of just how the PhanSite is kept secure. The more he listens, the more Akira realizes that a single session with Mishima isn't going to give him the understanding he needs to keep it out of the kid's hands. _Damn_.

He comforts himself with knowing that the admin password is secure with him, but the more technical Mishima gets, the sicker Akira becomes. _This kid has way too much power_. "How about we switch the PhanSite to private?" Akira asks. "Remember, how we talked about that?"

Mishima nods. "I'm all set with it." He hits a few keys and a new homepage appears on the PhanSite. "You can still log in as the admin, and see all the requests. There's actually a few on there. I know you guys have been busy, but you should take a look at some of them."

Akira nods. He's cast a glance at the PhanSite a few times during the last couple of days. Most of the requests are childish and local, but there are a few other ones that look promising.

As much as Akira hates to admit it, he still needs Mishima for the time being. Shared access is still shared, and until Akira can lock Mishima out of the PhanSite, and be certain that it'll still be secure, he can't take any moves against him. But as he thinks this, another idea pops into his head. "I want to thank you," Akira says, nonchalantly, and holds up the device. "For this."

"Huh?" Mishima asks, turning to him. "But I didn't do anything."

Akira shakes his head. "That's not true. You pretty much confirmed my theories about it. I feel better after asking you about it."

Mishima blushes a little. "Th-thanks," he mutters. "Anything I can do to help, I will."

Akira smiles. "Well, actually, I was thinking you might be able to help us with stuff like this in the future."

"What'd you mean?" Mishima asks.

Akira goes in for the kill. "I'm not very knowledgeable about this technical stuff, and you're the only one I know that I can rely on to give me solid information on the topic. In the future, I think we're going to have to use a lot more gear like this." He flashes the device before Mishima's eyes once more. "How'd you like to be our tech consultant? Whenever we have to work with something like this, we'll come straight to you."

Akira watches as Mishima mulls this over. The boy's eyes widen. "Of course I'll help you with that! That's awesome!"

Akira nods and widens his grin. _There we go. Have some extra responsibility, Mishima. And a title to go along with it_. It would make the sting of Akira taking the PhanSite away from him easier to bear. Naturally, Akira had no intention of making Mishima _anything_ , least of all a 'tech consultant.' It was a meaningless title thrown by way of appeasement. But if Mishima thought it meant that the Phantom Thieves trusted him more…

 _Wonderful_.

#

"Hey, Haru," Akira calls, his hands above his head as he reaches for the fertilizer bag on the top shelf. "Can you roll that dolly over here?"

What follows next is a distinct stomping, coupled with squeaky wheels. When Haru straightenss the dolly, she slams the flat metal bed against the ground, and punctuates it with a distinct, "Humph!"

Akira yanks the fertilizer off the shelf, turns and finds her glaring daggers at him. The look takes him aback, and he drops the bag. It slams onto his foot. "Ah!" He yells, and yanks himself out from beneath it.

"Did that hurt?" Haru asks, her voice like a still volcano before an eruption.

"Yes!" Akira groans, reaching down and rubbing it through his shoe.

" _Good_ ," Haru says.

Akira's eyes snap up to find hers. She still wears the glare. "Haru, what the hell?"

"What the hell?" Haru asks, hands on her hips. "Are you _seriously_ asking me that right now?" She shakes her head. "Oh, I'm so mad at you I can't even think straight."

Akira glances up at Morgana, who stares back, eyes wide in confusion. "What did I do?"

"How should I know?" The cat hisses back.

"Are you serious?" Haru asks. "You're going to feign innocence?"

Akira straightens back up. "Haru, honestly. I have no idea what-"

Haru leans over until her face is inches from his own. "I'm talking about the _Makoto Deception_."

Akira blinks. "The Makoto Decep..." He stops talking. Recalls the awkward conversation from the other day. The questions. Haru's assertion that she was, 'asking for someone else.' "Oh, crap," Akira says.

"Yes," Haru replies.

"So you were-"

"Yes."

"And it was for-"

"Yes."

"Because-"

" _Yes_."

Akira stares at her. "Oh, crap," he says, again.

"What?" Morgana asks, from his perch. "What?"

"You're friends with Makoto," Akira says. She nods. "And Makoto-"

"Mako-chan told me everything," Haru cuts in. "About how you deceived her, and how you're actually dating Takamaki."

Morgana's eyes widen. "Oh, crap," the cat says.

Haru crosses her arms across her chest. "But, I suppose it's fine. You, after all, don't _deserve_ Makoto."

"Listen, Haru," Akira begins to beg. "It was all a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Haru blurts out. "If there was a misunderstanding, it was _your_ fault. You're the one who got that present for her. You're the one who did all the smiley face texts, and you're the one who made her think she was special."

"She _is_ special," Akira says, quickly. "But things got out of hand, and-"

"Please don't try and backtrack now, Akira-kun. It's unbecoming." She shakes her head and turns away. She glances up at Morgana. "Come to think of it, you don't deserve Mona, either. I'm taking him."

"Wait, what?" Akira asks.

"Huh?" Morgana asks.

"You heard me," Haru says. "Mona will be staying with me from now on."

"Uh," Akira replies, rubbing the back on his neck. "Haru, I know you're mad, but you can't just have my cat."

"I disagree," Haru retorts.

She marches up beneath where Morgana sits and raises her arms. "Come here, Mona-chan."

"What should I do?" Morgana asks.

"Well, don't go with her!" Akira replies.

Haru glares at him over her shoulder, but lowers her arms. "Fine. I suppose it'll take a bit longer for Mona-chan to realize how terrible a caregiver you are." She turns and stomps away to undertake some other task in the flower shop, leaving Akira speechless.

The rest of their time passes in awful and angry silence.

#

Once her shift is over, Haru takes out her cell and calls Makoto. When she picks up, Haru states, "Operation Punish Akira is underway!"

"Um," Makoto answers. "I thought we agreed to call it something different."

"Did we?" Haru asks, putting a little twist to her voice. "I don't recall."

"Well, whatever," Makoto says, her voice increasing in excitement. "So, did he buy it?"

"Oh yes," Haru replies, grinning. "Akira believes you to be devastated over this whole thing. I said quite a few nasty things to him myself." She giggles. "I even tried to kidnap his cat."

Silence from the other end. "Wait, what?" Makoto asks.

"Something wrong?"

"Did you just say that Akira has a cat?"

Haru nods. "I did. Mona-chan. He carries him everywhere in his bag. Did you not know that?"

"Could you describe this cat for me?"

“He’s black, with a white tuft on his tail, and his paws. He’s got such a cute face.”

Makoto says nothing for a while. Then, with an almost amused cadence in her voice, she says, “Son of a bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a good weekend. Mine consisted of car salesman and exhaustion.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a bit lighter than the last few. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on Friday. Have a good Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it! If not, have a good week anyway!


	41. The Great Sinner of Vanity

5/18

Light stirs him. His eyes crawl open, and the too familiar aches skitter through his muscles. Before he can stop himself, he mutters a short, gruff growl, and the figure alongside him stirs.

She wakes, and he watches the life snap on through her body. He feels a twang of envy, until she smiles and traces a hand across his chest, trailing her fingers through the gray hair. "Good morning," she whispers.

And like that, he takes up the mask. The grin he gives her is contemplative and aloof. "Good morning, my dear," he replies.

"Ready for your big day?" She asks, yanking some of the blankets further up towards her chin.

The words, as practiced as they are, come easily to him. "What happens today is insignificant compared to the creation of art itself. All I ask of this day is that the people who arrive to partake of my work, enjoy it as much as they can."

Madarame long ago mastered the empty-headed colloquialisms that artists have used for generations to give themselves an 'other-ness,' or a mentality or personality perpendicular to your average individual. None of it means anything, but he's found that ornamenting his sentences as such, make many nod in appreciation.

This dumb broad is no exception.

"Wow," she says, and shakes her head. "That's just a great way of looking at it."

"It is the only way I know how to look at it," he replies.

They have sex.

Once Madarame finishes, he lays spread-eagle on the sheets, panting. His girlfriend goes on and on about how good he is, and he smiles as if he is happy to hear such flattery. She's lying, of course. Tell enough lies in your life, and you know when someone's feeding you bullshit.

She continues to pontificate about his skills at lovemaking, and he uses the time to take stock. She's still young. A young art student, as a matter of fact. She's got no talent to speak of, so making her an apprentice was out of the question, but her body was divine and she knew enough - academically, anyway - about art to hold a conversation.

Still, he'd noticed her drinking a lot recently. To preserve his image, he didn't take her to his public outings, but instead, put her up in this ritzy loft in Shibuya. Such prime real estate, coupled with the gifts he lavishes, is usually enough to keep the females in his life content and reticent. But drinking can make one say anything. And as the adage goes, 'Loose lips sink ships.'

Soon - sooner than he'd like - he may have to make a phone call.

Madarame lifts himself out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. It will be a hot day. He can feel it, even in the air conditioned apartment. The thought of wearing those idiotic robes grates at him, but what can he do? The fans of Madarame expect things of Madarame. He's gotten this far in life by giving people exactly what they want.

He showers, and eats a light breakfast his girlfriend has prepared for them. He notices her eyes linger on the half-empty six pack of beers in the fridge, when she opens it to get at the juice.

 _She'll be hammered by noon_.

One phone call. That's all it will take.

He prepares himself for the day. Kisses her goodbye. She flatters him a bit, and then he extricates himself.

Madarame's phone rings in the elevator. He answers it. "Yusuke, my boy. Good morning."

"Good morning, Sensei. How did your meditations go?"

"Very well," Madarame says. "This mountain air always manages to revitalize these old bones of mine."

"The monastery was agreeable, then?"

Madarame thinks of the young woman writhing atop him. "Very agreeable," he says, then chuckles pleasantly to cover up the lilt he'd stupidly allowed into his voice.

"Wonderful," Yusuke says. He's never been one to doubt. "I wanted to remind you that I'll be leaving school early to help prepare the exhibit. What time will you be arriving?"

The elevator reaches the bottom floor. "I should be arriving in Tokyo in a few hours," Madarame says, and heads for the busy streets of early-morning Shibuya. "Say, around four."

"Excellent. I shall see you there, Sensei."

"Very good, my boy. Very good."

They exchange a few more pleasantries, and Madarame hangs up. He has plenty of time. He exits the building and his driver opens the door of the limo. Madarame slides in.

It is time to make his rounds. He gives the address of their first stop.

#

Madarame finishes his rounds and arrives at the site of the exhibit, just shy of four o'clock. When he enters, a brief smattering of applause breaks out at the hands of the gallery's staff. He nods and bows and smiles cheerfully, the very picture of graceful acceptance. It is a waltz he's danced many times.

Yusuke cuts his way through the small crowd, and waves. "Good afternoon, Sensei."

Madarame glances around the gallery, and takes in the dozens of his paintings dotting the walls. On the far wall sits the exhibit’s masterpiece. ‘ _Refractions at Dusk_ ’ is a marvelous piece detailing a forest on the peak of nighttime, dotted with precise strokes of red. It evokes both the tranquility and ferocity of the wild. At least, that’s what he’ll tell people. "Thank you for helping me put this together, Yusuke."

Yusuke shakes his head. "I did very little. I merely suggested to the gallery workers where to place the pieces in order for them to complement one another to their fullest potential." Based on the dirty looks those staffers were giving Yusuke, he probably did more than 'suggest.' Madarame chuckles and claps Yusuke on the shoulder. _This one_ was his greatest. All the others had come with their baggage and their self-serving dreams and ambitions. Yusuke was pure enough to want to do art for art's sake. He sought no reimbursement or recognition. Privately, Madarame knew those desires plagued him as much as anyone else, but Yusuke still believed in 'art in its purest form,' which was really just some crap Madarame had made up to keep him on a short leash.

Yusuke pulls out his cellphone and frowns. "Those students I told you about should be arriving soon, Sensei. As I said, Ann was very much looking forward to meeting you."

Madarame smirks. "And I would hate to disappoint, my boy. Once they arrive, please, show them to me."

Yusuke agrees to do so and Madarame excuses himself. He has a few more tasks to complete before he needs to greet the public. He retreats to an upstairs office where he's certain he can be alone. It is one of the perks of being famous, you can include odd requests into your negotiations and no one will bat an eyelash. He takes out his phone and proceeds to call his publicist. It's a very clear and concise conversation. Madarame will give an interview to a prolific art magazine in the next few weeks. Beyond that, he's got little to do in the way of marketing.

He smiles when he hangs up the call. This is something he's always been great at. Even in his youth, when he was coming up, he took care never to over-expose himself. In today's world, everyone smears themselves across every platform they can manage. Madarame limits his involvement to just a few pieces a year. Chum for the sharks. It keeps him interesting, keeps him mysterious and aloof. Makes him seem uninterested in fame, and therefore results in more fame. This, in itself, is an art form.

His phone rings. It is an unregistered number. He answers. "Hello?"

The voice on the other edge is unrefined and bored. "Madarame-sama, I'm calling on behalf of your third favorite customer."

Madarame frowns. "I-I see."

"We're thinking of makin' another donation. Understand?"

He nods, though no one is around to see it. "I do. The Foundation will be most pleased."

"Glad to hear it!" The voice says. "So, we'll be in touch about the amount. But expect it to be sizeable."

"That’s, uh, fantastic."

"Good. Good. And now, don't take offense, but I've been instructed to request the, uh, reiteration of your understanding."

Madarame's eyes narrow. "Our relationship has always been mutually beneficial, and there's never been a complication. So, yes, I _understand._ "

"Cool," the voice replies. "Because, let me tell ya, if there's one thing my boss hates, it's a misunderstanding."

"And tell _him_ that I don't appreciate his grandstanding," Madarame growls.

Silence on the other end. Then, the voice asks, "Are you _sure_ you want me to repeat that to him?"

Madarame sighs. "No. No, thank you."

"Okay, then."

The line goes dead.

Madarame lowers the phone and hisses, "Fucking-" before he stops himself. He takes a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to lose his composure. People would be arriving downstairs.

He shuts his eyes and reminds himself of how hard he has worked to get where he is. He will not throw it all away for nothing.

Then, after plastering a cheerful look onto his face, he leaves the room.

#

He decides, right away, to sleep with Ann Takamaki. The blonde hair. The curves of her body. The shape of her face. Even her voice. It all delights and inspires.

Yusuke introduces two boys who had accompanied her, but Madarame offers them only vague pleasantries before returning his attention to the girl.

 _A model? That's perfect_.

The younger, the stupider. The stupider, the easier. He can tell, by the way she talks and smiles and stares, that she's got little going on behind her eyes, but so much the better.

"Yusuke tells me that you find ' _Sayuri_ ' to be particularly enchanting," Madarame says to her.

"Totally," she replies, nodding, eyes wide. _Another pretty young thing taken in by my fame_. It still tickles him to know his presence can provoke such a reaction. He's no fool. He knows they are attracted to his money. But the only thing wrong with a gold digger is if you don't know they're a gold digger.

"It's a shame," he says, snatching a flute of champagne off a passing server, "that you cannot see it in person."

Her face falls. "I know. I can't believe someone would be horrible enough to steal it."

An idea begins to circulate in his mind. _I wonder if she wouldn't like a 'private viewing' of the recently recovered 'Sayuri.'_ It was certainly within his power to make it happen, but he'd have to get her to shut up about it afterwards. Well, he could work out the details later.

He goes on and on about the awful loss of the ' _Sayuri_ ' for an appropriate length, and then switches the topic back over to her. "Would you be interested in doing more modeling work, in an artistic sense?" He asks.

"I sure would," Ann replies, and smiles at Yusuke. "He doesn't think so, but the painting he did of me was fantastic."

Madarame laughs as Yusuke's eyes fall towards the floor. From the corner of his eyes, he notices the two young boys shifting further and further away from them. _Glad to know some kids can take a hint_. "Forgive my apprentice. He can take his art so seriously." He casts a glance at Yusuke. "My boy, would you mind checking with the staff and seeing if they need anything more of me?" It is a weak request, but one Madarame knows Yusuke will strive his utmost to fulfill.

Yusuke nods. "Of course, Sensei."

When the boy leaves, Madarame turns back to Ann and notices the small smile on her face. _Oh ho. What's this?_

“I’d _definitely_ be interested in modeling for you. Is there a place nearby where we could talk more about it?” She finishes this by flicking her fingers through her blonde hair.

 _Someone’s certainly more forward when no one’s around._ Madarame smiles. “Of course.” He snatches another two flutes of champagne from a nearby server. “There’s an office upstairs where our privacy is assured.”

“That’s great,” she says, and eyes the drink in his hand hungrily.

"Come," he says, and nods towards the stairwell. She glances around, conspiratorially, then follows. He walks ahead of her, but keeps his body at an angle, so he watches as she takes out her phone – a rather old-looking one at that – to send a quick text. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he says, in his calmest voice. “All we will be discussing is a business proposition.”

“I know,” she says, and winks up at him. Madarame suppresses the urge to swallow.

He leads her back to the office, and gestures towards one of the chairs. She sits, and he settles himself across from her, and continues to sip at the champagne. "So, tell me, would you seriously consider modeling for me, back at my atelier? I’m sure it would do wonders for your career."

"Your atelier?" Ann asks. She starts to bring the champagne to her lips, then stops. "What's that?"

Madarame grins. "Little more than a shack, I'm afraid. A place where I partake of simple things. I find that it helps me find my muse all the more."

"Cool," Ann says, then nods. She reaches one hand down and slides it into her pocket. "I'd totally be willing to model for you."

"Wonderful."

“I just think,” Ann continues. “That your art is, like, so amazing. How do you even come up with it all?”

Madarame runs his eyes up and down her body. “Inspiration can come from anywhere, and-”

Something vibrates, and Ann's eyes widen. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's my phone." She pulls it from her pocket and her eyes widen even more. "Oh, no."

"Something wrong?" Madarame asks.

"It's... about my friend," Ann says, and puts it to her ear. "Hello?" A slight pause follows, and then she says, "Oh my god. I'm on my way." She hangs up. "I'm sorry," she says, bowing her head again and again as she straightens. "But I have to go." Then, she spins and marches towards the door. "I'm sorry. I'm definitely interested in modeling for you, but I've got to get going."

"It's quite alright," Madarame says, and stands. "My people will be in contact with your people." _Damn_.

"Great, thanks!" Ann says, and opens the door and steps out.

Madarame remains in the office for a short time after the door closes.

#

When Ann emerges at the top of the gallery's stairwell, Akira breathes a sigh of relief, and hangs up the burner phone. Ann sees him and hangs hers up as well.

"You okay?" He asks her, when she walks up to him.

She grimaces. "That old perv makes my skin crawl. Did we get it?"

"Ohya confirmed it," Akira says, and pats the pocket with the burner. He smiles at her. "Good job, Ann."

Ann blushes a bit, stares at him, and says, "I'm still mad at you."

Akira turns and together they head back into the gallery. "That’s fine. But you were right."

They find Ryuji in the midst of a conversation with Yusuke. It does not appear to be going well. "What, exactly, is your implication?" Yusuke asks, an edge to his voice.

"Nothin'," Ryuji says, with a shrug. "I'm just wondering if you ever _help_ Madarame with his paintings, that's all. You're his apprentice, right?"

Yusuke glowers at him. "That..."

Akira frowns. It looks as though Ryuji is getting somewhere, but they need to leave as soon as possible.

"Ryuji," Ann says, walking up to the two boys. "We need to go. It's Shiho."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "For real?" He asks, then nods. "Right. Later, Yusuke. No offense meant, dude."

"Oh my," Yusuke says, as the three turn from him. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Ann replies. "But I'll text you later about it."

Yusuke nods. "Very well."

"You've got his number?" Ryuji asks, as they leave.

"Duh," Ann replies, then smirks at him. "What, are you jealous?"

Ryuji reddens. "N-no!"

They speed their way to the entrance, push outside, and head down the street towards the station.

“So, are we good?” Ryuji asks.

“Yeah,” Morgana echoes, popping his head out of Akira’s bag. “If Lady Ann had spent one more second in that room with that old bastard, I was gonna break the door down!”

“Seriously,” Ryuji mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I still don’t think that plan was a good one.”

Ann shakes her head, and holds up an index finger. “All guys, especially old guys, want to believe one thing more than anything else. That younger girls want to sleep with them.”

Akira nods, and keeps his mouth shut. _Let her have this._ As soon as Ryuji and Akira had left her with Madarame, Akira had dialed Ohya on his burner. He stayed with her, on the line, until she confirmed the GPS hack had worked.

“I’ve got it!” She’d said. “Not bad, kid-” But Akira had hung up the phone and dialed Ann’s burner. It had been risky, no doubt. Akira would’ve preferred to wait until Madarame had gone to the bathroom or something, but they couldn’t guarantee he would be alone.

But since Mishima had confirmed that the device wouldn’t hack a phone that _didn’t_ have GPS that meant they could keep their burners on while hacking Madarame’s phone, provided there were no other phones with GPS in the vicinity. And Ann had had the – as she’d put it – perfect way of getting Madarame alone.

“We’ve mirrored the GPS on Madarame’s phone,” Akira says. “We’ll be able to see where he’s been and where he’s going, from now on.”

Ryuji and Morgana sigh. “Nice work, Ann,” Ryuji says.

Morgana nods. “Agreed. Lady Ann, you’re a credit to the Phantom Thieves.”

Ann rolls her eyes. “Alright, alright, enough with the flattery.” She looks at Ryuji. "Did you get anything out of Yusuke?"

Ryuji shrugs. "I dunno. He kept staring at this one painting, so I went up to him and asked him about it. I didn't really get it, it mostly just had some trees covered with red splotches."

"Cheery," Akira mutters.

Ryuji chuckles. "Tell me about it. Dude was staring at it like crazy. I asked him some stuff about helping out Madarame with painting, and he got all defensive."

"Do you think _he_ painted that piece?" Ann asks.

"I don't know," Ryuji replies. "He never came out and said it, but he was sure acting weird about it. But here's something I wanted to ask you guys. You know how there were, like, twenty or thirty paintings in there?"

"Yeah," Akira and Ann say.

"Well, how long does it take to finish a painting? Because if Madarame really is plagiarizing Yusuke, did Yusuke paint all of them? Feels like that would take a long ass time.”

Akira frowns. "I was wondering about that too."

"Well maybe," Ann says, and pulls the small device from her pocket. "This will give us the answer. Plus, Madarame invited me to model at his atelier.”

"His atelier?" Akira asks.

She nods. "He says it's where he 'finds his muse' or something, but says it's little more than a shack."

"Hey," Ryuji says, snapping his fingers. "Yusuke said something about this ateli-thing. He says he lives there."

Akira smiles. "Looks like we should pay this place a visit."

#

Akira steps into Crossroad, and the low music spreads over him in a warm wave. He begins to slide his way past the occupied tables, towards the bar, when Ohya's voice rings out, "Hey there!" She sits at the same spot as before, short glass in hand, smile on her face. To Akira's shock, she appears the wear the same clothes she wore on Monday.

He makes his way over and plants himself onto the stool next to her. Ohya takes another sip of the dark brown liquid before she runs her eyes up and down the length of him. "Well, look at you. Who'd have thought you'd pull it off?"

"You're sure you got it?" Akira asks.

"Well," Ohya replies. "Last I checked, the GPS you mirrored was still in the gallery. But, I checked its history, and I'm pretty sure we've got our man."

Akira lets out a sigh of relief. "Great." Then he looks at her, looks at the bar top, looks down at her bag. "Can I, uh, see it?"

Ohya cocks a brow at him. "See it? As in the GPS?" He nods. "Why do you need to see it?"

He frowns, and whispers, "The Phantom Thieves are going to need that information."

Ohya sets her drink down and taps the side of the glass with her finger. "The Phantom Thieves, huh?" She turns back to him and stares at him, and she suddenly seems a lot less drunk. "You know, I checked out that PhanSite. You were right. It's all private now. No one can see the requests being made."

Akira leans forward. "Just like I said it would."

"So then, tell me. Why do the Phantom Thieves want to 'steal Madarame's heart,' or whatever it is they're supposed to be able to do?"

Akira casts his gaze around the room, and Ohya laughs. "Kid, I know every face in this bar. Believe me, none of them are listening to you right now. C'mon, spill it."

"Well, you know, don't you?" Akira asks. "They got your name from Nakanohara. Plagarism. Madarame is stealing the art from his apprentices."

"Uh-huh, and have you got any proof of that?"

"Huh?"

"Proof?" Ohya drawls. "You know, the thing you traditionally need to have before you make an accusation?"

"Nakanohara said-"

"Nakanohara is a failed artist living in an apartment that is actually shittier than mine. He's a low-level clerk and has no friends or social life. His claim that his former mentor stole all his work is just a bid for attention and a last gasp for fame."

Akira's eyes widen. "But, you-"

" _That_ ," Ohya cuts him off. "Is what Madarame will say. It's what he'll say about all his former apprentices. It's a classic, he-said, he-said, and the 'he' with the most money and fame and goodwill, will always win out."

"Then-" Akira starts, but again Ohya slices her way in.

Her words come faster. "No, no, no. What we need is an accusation and proof from a _current_ apprentice. One that has everything to lose. 'Why,' people will ask, 'would a promising young artist hamstring his own career? Might there be some truth to this?' That's what we need."

"So, a current apprentice? You mean, Yusuke Kitagawa?"

Ohya lifts up her drink and takes another sip. "He's one option."

"What'd you mean, 'one option?’”

Ohya glances down at his feet, then smiles. "You got a good pair of walking sneakers? Tokyo's streets can wreak havoc on a nice pair of loafers like those."

Akira shrugs. "I've got some running shoes," he replies. "Why?"

"Tomorrow," Ohya replies, and she reaches out with her free hand and pats him on the shoulder. "You and I are going for a walk."

#

Ohya stumbles out of the bar, citing the need for, "Good rest and all that shit," and leaves Akira alone on his stool.

When she turns the corner of the bar and vanishes from sight, Akira hears a soft _clunk_ behind him, and turns to find Lala Escargot standing before him, hands on her hips, and a fresh 'Jack and Coke without the Jack,' set before him.

"Well?" She asks.

"Well, what?" Akira replies.

"Well, everything!" She retorts. "What did Ohya ask you to do this time?" Akira opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, Lala rambles on. "You know, I warned you about that girl. If she stopped dressing like it’s 1996, she would turn a lot more heads than she does. You seem like the kind of guy who can see past all that. So, if you think you're falling for her, _don't_."

Akira blinks, and almost spits out the small sip he's taken of his drink. "I'm not _falling_ for her!"

Lala throws back her head and laughs. "Oh, relax, sweetie. I'm only teasing." she shakes her head. "I still got it. But seriously, watch out for her. When she works her way up to it, she finds it all too easy to jump head first into the deep end. I wouldn't follow her if I were you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Akira replies.

Lala doesn't move. "Well?"

Akira sighs. "Well, what?"

Lala scowls. "Don't make me come around to that side and smack you on the head, Kurusu. What's going on with the girl? The one you referred to as, 'the most amazing girl' you've ever met?"

"Oh," Akira says, and looks down at the bar top.

"Oh?" Lala asks. "'Oh' isn't good. 'Oh' is never good."

"We're in a bad place right now."

Lala's frown deepens. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Akira asks, looking up. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"Ah-hah!" She says, and points at him. "I rest my case. When a man thinks he's done nothing, that means he's done something. What happened?"

"You want the truth?" Akira asks.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it."

"She interrogated my friend's best friend, at the hospital, and sort of triggered a re-traumatization." Akira frowns. _Is that even a word?_ Then he glances at the drink. Was their alcohol in it?

Lala blinks. "That's... not good."

"No, it's not."

"Wait, so, _your_ friend's best friend, is currently in the hospital?"

"Yes."

"And this 'amazing girl' of yours, went there, and did what, exactly?"

"That's a little complicated. Basically, she was looking into me, and the girl knew 'something' but she knew that the girl I like also knew it, so when the girl that I like showed up and pretended that it was about something else, she freaked out."

"You realize that told me absolutely nothing, right?"

Akira shrugs. "Sorry. Like I said, it's complicated."

Lala rests one hand on the bar and leans in towards him. "Kurusu, didn't I tell you last time? Most things aren't complicated. People just think they should be, so they make them that way. Let me guess, you weren't _honest_ with this girl, were you?"

"Well, that's-"

"Uh-huh. Boy, listen here. Girls appreciate honesty. Even when we don't act like it. If you've been spinning your wheels and stringing her along, it's only natural for her to get desperate and go off the reservation. What you need to do is sit everyone down and get everyone talking."

Akira sighs. "That might be difficult."

"And why is that?"

"Because my friend, the one whose best friend was harassed? She gave me an ultimatum."

"Oh shit. Those are always bad."

"Yep. Her, or the girl I like."

"And I'm guess you chose the first one."

"And that's not all."

"No?"

Akira chuckles. "To punish the girl I like, my friend is insisting that we pretend to be dating."

Lala gasps, crosses her arms, and shakes her head. "Oh, now that's just mean!"

"I know, right?"

"Alright, that does it," Lala says, and snatches the drink from Akira's hand. She points one manicured finger to the door. "You've got quite the mess on your hands, Akira Kurusu. A spectacular mess! You don't have time to be wasting in a place like this. You need to get your ass out of here, and fix this. I don't want to see you in here again until you do."

He tries to smile. "Hey, c'mon, I-"

"I'm serious, boy! Get!"

Akira sighs and slides his way off the stool. He nods to the drink in Lala's hand. "Is that going on my tab?"

"Naturally," she says, and places it back down on the bar. Then, she smiles. "On a completely unrelated note, how'd you like to work here?"

Akira blinks. "Huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a great holiday! Sorry about the delayed post. You know how it goes, holidays and the like.
> 
> So, here's the thing. Given how intense my capstone is growing, and due to a recent shakeup at work, I may have to take a bit of time off from Crimson soon. Not next week. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, but I need to make sure I handle business in the other aspects of my life. And, as I've said, I do not want to rush through deadlines and turn out a slew of bad chapters. That's not to say I'm going to abandon this. I will not do that. I've come too far, and people have invested too much into it to stop writing it now.
> 
> Again, this is speculative at the moment, but it's looking increasingly likely. Thank you for sticking with Crimson as long as you all have. Thank you for reading and commenting and discussing it. I'll have another update on this in a coming chapter.
> 
> UPDATE: Oh, and someone by the name of 'KnowledgeSeeker66' expanded on the TV Tropes page for Crimson. Thanks! Check it out: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/CrimsonAU


	42. Hitting the Bricks

5/19

Akira exits Shujin and finds a familiar retro-clad woman at the base of the steps. When she spies him, Ohya lifts her hand into an exaggerated wave and cries out, "Hey, cuz!"

The eyes of the surrounding students snap to him, and, scowling, Akira descends to the street. "Was that really necessary?" He asks, and nods towards the alley.

"I wanted to make sure you saw me."

Akira rolls his eyes. "You're hard to miss."

"Awww, thanks."

 _Wasn't a compliment_ , Akira thinks, but keeps his mouth shut.

"Well, ready to hit the bricks?" Ohya asks.

"I don't know what that means."

Ohya stomps her foot on the concrete. "Hit the bricks. With your feet? As in, walking?"

"Oh, yeah." Akira sets his bag on the ground, kneels down, and zips it open. He pulls out his running shoes, and sets about putting them on. To make room for the shoes, he'd left Morgana at home, with instructions to take the day off. The cat had been disappointed to not be part of the operation, and Akira hadn't been able to come up with a postive spin on the ditching. He resolved to get the cat some tuna or sushi later.

"So, what's the plan?" He asks, as he ties his laces.

Ohya pulls her own phone from her pocket and taps it. "I took a look at the GPS data you sent me yesterday. A lot of it was places you'd figure he'd visit. Art galleries. Restaurants. A bunch of other businesses. People go to a lot more places than they realize."

"Are we going to look into them all?" Akira asks, eyes widening.

Ohya frowns. "Obviously not. We can rule all those places out as points of interest. _But_." She turns the phone around so he can see it. Akira sees an aerial map of Tokyo, with several red-pins marked. All of them were a good distance away from one another. " _These_ are locations Madarame visits on a regular basis. And get this, they're all residences."

"Is that weird?" Akira asks. "I mean, he's famous, right? He's probably got a few houses."

Ohya shakes her head. "Normally, I'd agree with you, and Madarame _does_ frequent one ritzy apartment complex on an almost weekly basis. But these are different." She points out four of the pins. "These are all in run down neighborhoods. Dirt cheap. I dug a little deeper, and found that each is owned by a different property management company. And I couldn't find _anything_ about those. No contact number. Not even an address." She grins. "Which means?"

Akira looks up at her. "You're asking me?"

Ohya groans. "Come on Kurusu, use your head! Madarame frequents four run-down properties, and each is owned by a seperate management company that has no presence anywhere?" She spreads her hands wide, but when he doesn't answer she says, "The companies are dummies! Set up by Madarame to hide that he owns those buildings!"

"Oh," Akira says. "Are you sure?"

"No, of course I'm not _sure_. If I was _sure_ of everything then I wouldn't have to _investigate_ anything, would I?"

Akira frowns at her, and takes a minute to think. "Wait," he says. "That doesn't make sense. Why would Madarame, a world famous artist, hide the fact that he owns those? Why would a famous artist need four beat up buildings anyway?"

"Exactly!" Ohya shouts, pumping a fist into the air. "That's the _exact_ question! Why _would_ he need those buildings? Why _would_ he hide them? That's what we're going to try and find out."

"Oh," Akira says.

"'Oh,' he says," Ohya replies, shaking her head. "Get in the game, kid."

Akira remembers something. "Wait a second. Madarame mentioned the other day that he has a 'shack,' and it's called an atelier, or something."

"Ah," Ohya says, nodding. She points to the map. "That's right here. And _that_ is actually in his name. All above board. Very clean. Spotless, even. Don't worry, we'll check that out too. I've got a theory."

"What's your theory?"

Ohya shakes her head. "Sorry, but I don't like to disclose those. I'd rather not inform any budding ideas in that noggin' of yours. First, we'll make the rounds. Then, you'll tell me what you think is going on."

Akira rolls his shoulders and adjusts his bag, now holding his regular loafers. "Okay, let's get going."

Ohya stares at him. "Uh, aren't you going to change your clothes too?"

Akira looks down at his uniform. "Why?"

Ohya droops her head forward. "Kurusu, please don't tell me you plan to spy on these buildings in your school uniform."

Akira feels his cheeks redden. He hadn't even thought of that. "I can buy a shirt and some pants on the way."

"Yeah," Ohya says, and turns down the alley. "Probably a good idea. Come on."

#

They swing through Harajuku and Akira finds himself an overpriced t-shirt and pair of slacks. He changes in the cafe of a bathroom, and shoves his uniform into his bag. When he exits, he finds Ohya seated at one of the tables, a cup of coffee and small pastry set before her. "First place is around the corner," she says, as she nibbles on it. "It's gonna be a long afternoon-slash-evening. So it's better to eat up now."

"Shouldn't we get these to go?" Akira asks, taking the seat across from her. "That way we can scope out the place and eat at the same time."

Ohya rolls her eyes. "You're obviously not from Tokyo."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because if you were, you'd know how freakin' hard it is to find a public trashcan on the street. Nope. We eat here. Then, we don't have to worry about lugging our trash everywhere."

Akira shrugs and nods, and when the waitress returns, he orders the same as Ohya.

"So," she says, breaking a piece off her food, and dipping it in the coffee. "What brings a kid like you to Tokyo?"

"Nothing special."

"Uh-huh," Ohya replies, popping the soaking bit into her mouth. She makes a face. "Ugh, that wasn't a good idea."

The waitress returns a moment later with Akira's order. She sets it in front of him, thanks him and bows, before she scurries off elsewhere. Akira takes a sip of the coffee. It's his turn to make a face.

"Not a fan?" Ohya asks.

"Nope," he replies, shaking his head.

She leans back in her chair and smiles. "Okay, so 'nothing special' brought you to the city. How'd you get involved with the Phantom Thieves?"

Akira's eyes dart to the other tables, but the only other customers are two men dressed in business suits sitting by the door, talking with exaggerated hand gestures. "I'm _not_ involved with the Phantom Thieves," Akira says. "I told you, I just know the admin of their website."

"That I believe," Ohya replies, nodding. "But I find it a little strange that this secret group of vigilantes would ask a high school student for help."

"You're asking me for help."

Ohya throws back her head and laughs. "Shit, kid. You've got me there." She takes another sip of her coffee. "Besides, the Phantom Thieves are probably your friends, or something."

"What would make you say that?"

"Because their first target was a mean gym teacher."

Akira's eyes narrow. "He was a little bit more than 'mean.' He was a rapist and he abused-"

"Alright, alright," Ohya replies, patting the air. "No need to get all touchy about it. I read the articles that covered Kamoshida. Still, don't you think that says something about the Phantom Thieves? That their super-awesome activities would kick off by getting a gym teacher to confess to his crimes? And _now_ they're going after Madarame?" She shrugs. "It's interesting, is all."

"If you say so."

"I do," Ohya replies. "Tell me, how do you think the Phantom Thieves change hearts?"

Akira looks her in the eyes. "How would I know?"

Ohya's smirk tightens. "I didn't ask how you would _know_. I asked what you _thought_. How do you think they do it?"

Akira smiles. "Maybe they use an app? There's one for everything these days."

Ohya chuckles. "True. But that would be a little anti-climatic, don't you think? Press a button and change a heart? It's gotta be something else."

Akira bites off a piece of his pastry to buy himself a bit more time. "All I know is, a request goes up on the website, and a few days later, the person has his heart change."

Ohya's eyes glaze over, and she frowns. "Maybe it's all just folie a deux."

"Folie a what?"

"Madness shared by two. It's French, I think. Yeah, pretty sure it's French. It's a psychological thing, where delusional beliefs are passed from one person to another, like a virus. Well, maybe not like a virus, but it works as a metaphor."

"And you think that's what the Phantom Thieves are doing?"

Ohya shakes her head. "I doubt it. But I wouldn't be all that surprised if the belief that the Phantom Thieves could change hearts influences a lot of people to have a change of heart. Who knows? Maybe the stress of his actions was eating away at Kamoshida, and the calling card was the straw that broke the camel's back. Maybe all the Phantom Thieves did was make him _aware_ that they knew about his... activities. And that was enough to trigger some kind of break in him.”

Akira scoffs. "Yeah, right."

Ohya glares across the table at him. "How would you know?"

Akira sighs. "Look, aren't we supposed to be looking into Madarame? We've eaten our food and had our terrible coffee, shouldn't we get going now?"

Ohya nods. "Good point." She stands. "You'll cover the bill, right?"

"Huh?" Akira asks.

"What?" She replies, grinning. "It's polite."

#

The building has seen better days. It isn't that it is poorly designed, or collapsing on itself. It just looks _tired_ , like an elder who has seen too much and just wants to shut their eyes and sleep forever.

 _Geez_ , Akira thinks, and shakes his head. _I hang out with an artist once I start getting all allegorical. That's a word, right?_

It's an old, two story domicile. But its wooden walls are patchy with white, and something like mold clings to the shutters. The windows are dusty, but not filthy, and the front door's forest green paint chips away. Sandwiched, as it is, between two larger buildings, the place seems abandoned, but a faint light from inside indicates someone is home.

"This whole area," Ohya says, "will be under redevelopment in a few years. The real estate snatch and grab has already begun. It'll be a few months before this place becomes a prime target. If Madarame does own it, he'll probably get a hefty sum if he sells it. Then again, he's freaking rich, so selling off this place might not mean much to him."

They are across the street, ducked into a smaller alley that gives them a good view of the front of the house. They've been standing there, staring at it, for twenty-five minutes. "Um," Akira finally asks, "are we going to actually do anything?"

"Patience, kid," Ohya replies. "That's the name of the game."

As she finishes her sentence, the front door opens. A middle-aged woman steps out. From this distance, Akira can't tell much about her, but she looks a bit haggard. She glances around as if afraid of being spotted, and her posture folds in on itself as she shuts the door, and locks it.

Ohya lifts her camera and takes a series of pictures. "Okay, and who might you be?" She frowns. "Too old to be a girlfriend. Maybe a relative? A nutjob niece or something?" She shakes her head. "No. In the art world, having a crazy relative is a _good_ thing."

"Where do you think she's going?" Akira asks, as the woman skitters down the street, head twisting around as if searching for them.

"No clue," Ohya replies. Once the woman turns the corner, she lowers her camera and turns to Kurusu. "Shall we go take a look?"

"What if there's someone in the house?"

"Carpe diem, kid! Seize the day!"

"I thought you said 'Patience was the name of the game?'"

"Are we gonna stand here and bicker, or are we going to take a peek inside that house?" Ohya asks, and starts to jog across the street.

Akira smiles and follows her.

She walks up to one of the windows as if she belongs there, and puts her face up to the glass. Then recoils, coughing. "Ah! Dust! Gross." She takes the hem of her shirt, lifts it, and rubs it across the glass, then reassumes her former position. Akira comes to her side and sneaks a peek as well.

The little they can see of the inside is a small room with a torn-up couch, and broken chair in the corner. A rug is draped across the floor, but its edges are so frayed Akira can't tell if the thing was meant to be bigger. "Looks like a dump," Akira mumbles.

"Looks like my apartment," Ohya replies.

Before Akira can reply, a young boy walks into the room, a book folded under his arm. Both Ohya and Akira duck down, then slowly rise back up. The boy hasn't noticed them, and has plopped himself down on the couch, and opened the book. Akira can't tell what he's reading, but he's not so much interested in the book as he is the boy.

The kid has a mop of unkempt dark hair on his head. His light blue shirt hangs off his frame like a second skin. From what little Akira can see of his actual body, the boy is thin. Upsettingly thin. "Who is this kid?" Akira asks. "Madarame's son?"

Ohya's eyes narrow. "I don't think so." She backs away from the window and makes her way over to the door.

"What're you doing?" Akira asks, and to his horror, Ohya rings the bell. They hear an awful metallic screeching from inside, then silence. She waits a moment, then presses the doorbell again.

A moment later, from inside, comes a muffled, "Who are you?" The voice is small and shaky.

"Hey," Ohya calls.

As she's about to continue, the boy inside shouts, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, or let them inside!"

"We're not strangers," Ohya says. "Madarame-sama sent us to check on you."

A pause. Then, "Sensei?"

"Yep," Ohya replies, putting as much warmth in her voice as she can. "So, could you let us inside?"

"Seriously?" Akira whispers, as he hears the lock disengage.

"What?" Ohya replies, frowning. "It's not like we're gonna hurt the kid or anything."

The door opens and the little boy stands there, staring up at them. "Is everything okay? Sensei isn't sick again, is he?"

"Sick?" Ohya asks.

The kid nods. "He gets sick a lot. That's why he has to go to the mountain retreat for his health stuff. He just got back the other day!"

"Uh," Akira says, looking over at Ohya. "Madarame-sama is fine. He just wanted us to come and check on you."

The kid frowns. "Why didn't he come himself?"

"Well," Ohya puts in. "You know, he's got the exhibit."

His face brightens. "Is Sensei happy with it?"

"With what?" Ohya asks.

The kid stamps his foot. " _'Mucus_!' The piece I helped him create. Is he happy with it?"

"You created a piece of art with Madarame-sama?" Ohya asks.

"And you named it, _'Mucus_?'" Akira whispers, wearing a frown. Ohya jabs him in the shoulder with her elbow.

"Of course I did," the kid says. "That's why you're here, right? To see the other one."

Akira and Ohya look at each other. "Yes," they both say.

"Kumi-chan is out," the boy says, but beckons them inside. "She went to get tonight's dinner. She should be back soon."

Akira and Ohya follow the kid inside.

The place smells awful. It's one of those stenches that isn't immediately apparent. It somehow blends in with the background, but once you search for it, you find it, and it twists its way into Akira's nostrils.

Ohya makes a face. "How long have you been here, young man?"

"Hmm?" The kid asks, apparently unperturbed by the stench, and the general disrepair of the place. "I've only been here about six months. I was in the other place before that."

"The other place?" Ohya asks.

The boy nods. He turns into a seperate room ahead of them. "It was in Shinjuku. Down the block from the Samurai Museum! Kumi-chan used to take me sometimes."

Ohya doesn't say anything, but grabs Akira by the shoulder, then points to her phone. On Madarame's GPS is a red pin in the Shinjuku section of Tokyo. Akira nods.

They follow the boy into the room, and stop.

On a massive easle in the center of the room is an elaborate sketch of what appears to be a landscape. Only, the landscape is more of a hellscape. The trees are like matchsticks, and their tops burn, which light of the skies above a broken city in the distance. A lake of what looks like mud bubbles in the foreground.

Akira takes a step back. _Relax. It's just a painting_. Ohya looks just as dumbfounded. "This is... uh-"

"I call it, _'Visions of Hell_ ,'" the boy says, as casually as if discussing the weather.

"You painted this?" Ohya asks.

The boy nods. "Of course. Sensei's helping me. Once it's finished, he'll show it to all his art friends. I bet he'll even let me come to the atelier after that!"

The word brings Akira back to the real world. "So, you painted this whole thing?"

The kid nods, then looks panicked. "Is he mad because it's not done yet? Oh, please! Tell him not to be upset. It'll be done soon, I promise."

Ohya snaps a picture of the painting with her camera. "Don't worry, he's not mad at you," she says. She looks over at Akira. "We should probably get going. Kimi-chan will be back any minute, and I'm sure she'll be annoyed with us taking up your t ime."

The boy shrugs. "Kumi-chan doesn't really get mad." Then he mumbles, "She doesn't really do anything, actually."

Ohya nods, and kneels down next to the boy. "Hey, listen, little man. Could you do us a favor? Could you keep it a secret from Madarame-sama that we were here?"

"Why?" The boy asks, brows furrowing.

She grins, reaches out and ruffles his hair. "Because," she says, but she stops when she pulls her hand away. A number of loose strands stick to her skin.

 _What the hell?_ Akira thinks.

Ohya snaps her smile back into place. "If you do, we'll make sure to put in a good word with Madarame-sama for you. He may even let you go to his atelier sooner, rather than later!"

The boy's eyes brighten. "Really?"

"Really, really," Ohya replies. "So, be a good boy, and keep our little visit a secret, yeah?" He nods. "And make sure you work hard for Madarame-sama!" The boy nods again. Ohya, still grinning, turns to Akira and whispers, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Akira doesn't disagree.

The boy locks the door behind them and they set off back across the street. "What the hell was that?" Akira asks, when they're back in the alley.

"I'm pretty sure that," Ohya replies, teeth gritted. "Was Madarame's apprentice."

Akira stares at her. "No. Yusuke Kitagawa is Madarame's apprentice."

"Uh-huh," Ohya replies. She pulls out the GPS. "Come on, we've got a few more places to check out. We'll spit theories at each other after."

#

It takes them another three hours to visit the remaining locations.

The Shinjuku residence contains a seven year old girl. At least, that's how old she looked, when Akira and Ohya peered in the window. They decided not to try and enter that one.

The next they visited was in Ueno, and it held another boy, maybe a bit older than the one they'd seen first.

Ohya knocks on the door of the fourth residence, a craggy shack in Ikebukero. A teenager answers. He is, perhaps, thirteen or fourteen, and regards the two of them with disdain when he opens the door. They try the same lie they'd given to the little boy.

The teen scowls. "If Sensei needs me, he can visit me himself. I see no reason to converse with his toadies."

"Toadies?" Akira asks.

The boy rolls his eyes. "If he must know, the work is almost complete. He'd best keep his word and promote me to the aterlier if he wants me to continue to produce for him. It's about time my talents make their official debut." He slams the door shut in their faces.

They trudge their way back to the train station. Ohya yawns and rubs the back of her neck.

"Alright," Akira says, and leans against a nearby building's wall. "Tell me what you think is going on."

Ohya smiles at him, but the usual playfullness is gone. "I recall saying that _you_ would be the one to tell me what _you_ thought, first." She nods back in the direction of the shack. "What's your take, after everything you've seen today?"

Akira is exhausted from schlepping his way across Tokyo, from one ramshackle house to another. He sighs, pushes up his  glasses, and rubs his eyes. "Are they Madarame's kids?"

"BUZZZ!" Ohya shouts in his ear. Akira jumps and cringes. " _That's_ your takeaway? You think all those kids, kids who don't look a thing like one another, are all that old guy's spawn?" She shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"Fine," Akira says, throwing his hands in the air. "So, what do you think? You've obviously had an opinion from the start!"

Ohya crosses her arms and nods. Then, she sticks her thumb towards a nearby bench, and says, "Let's take a seat."

They do, and Ohya stares at the concrete for a while before she says anything. Akira finds the silence a bit unnerving, coming from the usual upbeat and vocal woman. "You went to Madarame's exhibit, right?" She asks.

Akira nods. "Yeah."

"How many paintings were there?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe twenty or more? I didn't really count."

"Are you an art connoisseur?"

"Nope."

Ohya nods. "Well, here's the thing about Madarame. He's famous. Like, crazy famous. But he's also very aloof. It's branding, of course. He portrays himself as this wise old man, who only deigns to show himself a few times a year. But his output is insane. He's painted literally hundreds of pieces. And what's more, so many of them are different. Madarame claims that his tastes change as he ages. For five years, he was into cubism. Then, surreal work. And so on, and so on. He's considered a master of many different types of styles. If you actually look at his work with a critical eye, you'd think he was some kind of savant. One piece will have finely detailed brush strokes, and another will be raw and rough and brutal. Yet, they've both got his signature in the corner." She looks at him, expectantly.

"You know," Akira says. "When I was at the exhibit, I kept wondering how Madarame could plagarize so many works from Yusuke."

She nods. "Exactly. How many could Yusuke Kitagawa have painted himself? Five? Maybe six? Where do the others come from?"

Akira's eyes widen. "Then, those kids-"

"Bingo," Ohya says. "I first noticed it when Nakanohara brought it to my attention. He insisted that Madarame stole all his work. But at the time Nakanohara was Madarame's apprentice, the latter had one of his most productive years ever. Forty or so paintings, of which, Nakanohara claimed seven as his own. Yet, Nakanohara claimed he was Madarame's sole apprentice."

"So..." Akira trails off.

Ohya's smile droops. "Madarame doesn't have just one apprentice. He's got several, all staggered at different ages. He plagarizes from _all_ of them, at the same time. Yusuke Kitagawa may be his public apprentice, but those four other kids? They're his back-ups. Like, reserve inventory. And none of them know about each other."

Akira nods. "So, if Yusuke ever said, 'Madarame plagarized five of my paintings,' then everyone would just say, 'well, about the other twenty?'"

"It adds a degree of doubt to the story," Ohya says. "That's why I started digging, after Nakanohara told me his story. Madarame has been doing this for years. I've compared the styles of paintings he's claimed as his own. In total, I believe Madarame has had somewhere in the ballpark of thirty apprentices, in total."

"What happened to them all?" Akira asks.

Ohya shrugs. "Believe it or not, Nakanohara, with his dead-end clerk job, is one of the lucky ones. Most of them are orphans, and Madarame kicked them to the street shortly before they became legal adults. Some became homeless. Some became drug addicts. Some became homeless drug addicts. Two..." and she pauses, takes a breath, and continues, "have killed themselves."

Akira stares at the ground for a while. "And no one knows about this?"

She reaches into her pocket. "If anyone does, they've either been paid off, or don't give a shit."

"God," Akira whispers, then straightens. "So, if this keeps up, those kids, and Yusuke-"

"They'll suffer the same fate as the ones before them. Kicked to the curb, and left to fend for themselves."

#

"Whoa," Morgana says. "Seriously?"

Akira nods. He's finished relating the story, and Ohya's theory. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. "We've got to do something. We need to get into his Palace and change his heart."

Morgana purrs and swishes his tail. "Did you check out the atelier?"

Akira shakes his head. Both of them had decided that stalking through Tokyo had exhausted them, and they'd gone their seperate ways. Akira had considered rushing to the flower shop, but the thought of dealing with Haru after an altogether depressing day made him call out. His boss had seemed okay with it.

"We should go there, as soon as possible. If we can verify that's the Palace," Morgana says, "it'd be a huge step!"

"I know," Akira replies. "But we still don't know the third keyword."

"Then we'll guess. We'll hit it eventually."

Akira sighs, reaches out, and strokes Morgana's fur. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry?"

"Yep," the cat replies, a grin on his face.

"Let's go see what's for dinner."

Morgana makes a face. "Wanna bet it's curry?"

Akira chuckles and heads for the stairwell. As he descends he hears a distinct sound.

Two adult voices. Laughing. One male. One female. There's a certain lilt to their voices, a tone Akira has come to recognize as 'flirty.'

 _Great_ , he thinks. Then his thoughts turn serious as he nears the corner. He recognizes that female's voice.

He descends into LeBlanc proper, and his jaw drops.

Ohya sits on one of the stools. She leans forward over the bar, elbows on the countertop, a cup of coffee alongside her. Sojiro stands before her, arms crossed, easy smile across his face.

"What," Akira says.

Ohya spins around on the stool. "Hey there!"

Sojiro's smile falters. "You two know each other?" He asks.

"He's my apprentice," Ohya replies, swinging her legs.

 _Is she drunk? How did she get drunk? We only split up an hour ago_.

"Apprentice?" Sojiro asks.

Ohya nods. "I'm a journalist. He's helping me with a story."

"Really?" The older man asks.

Akira sighs, and nods.

His smile returns and he looks back at Ohya. "Awfully nice, taking someone like that under your wing."

"Aww," Ohya says, waving the comment away. "I could say the same about you. I take it he lives upstairs?"

"Good guess."

"What're you doing here?" Akira asks her.

"I figured I'd drop by before heading to my regular stop in Shinjuku."

"Shinjuku?" Sojiro replies, and leans a little closer. "A lovely lady like yourself shouldn't be hanging around that place at night."

"Easy Pops," Ohya replies, a smirk crossing her face. "I'm not as innocent as I look."

"Is that so?" Sojiro whispers.

_THIS IS TOO WEIRD! THIS IS TOO WEIRD!_

Akira crosses the floor and plops down on the stool next to her. Sojiro scowls at him. "Prince is hungry," Akira explains, and points at Morgana.

Sojiro's expression softens, and he shrugs. "Let me see what I've got." He trudges into the kitchen, shoulders drooped.

Akira turns to her. "What're you doing here?"

"I told you, I-"

"I don't mean like _that_. I didn't tell where I lived. I know I never mentioned that. So, how did you-" But before he can finish, Ohya pulls a small device out of her pocket and dangles it before him.

Akira recognizes the small little black box. His mouth opens and shuts several times before he can spit out, " _You hacked my phone?_ "

Ohya shrugs, and returns the device to her pocket. "Honestly, I've no idea why you didn't see that coming."

"Wh-why? When?"

"When?" Ohya asks. "When we were sitting on that bench a little while ago. We were the only two around, so I figured I'd take a little peek. As for the why, well, why not?"

"It's an invasion of privacy!"

"Meh," Ohya replies, shrugging. "I just wanted to find out a little more about you."

"Then you could've _asked_."

"Right, because you've been so forthcoming. C'mon Kurusu, don't all be all upset. We're still partners in this, yeah? Now, I just know where you sleep at night." She grins. She darts her eyes in the direction of the kitchen. "So, what's the deal with him? Is he like, your uncle or something? I didn't see a ring."

"Nope," Akira says, sliding away from the bar. "Nope, nope, nope, nope."

"Don't you want dinner?" She asks.

Akira just shakes his head and plods back upstairs. Morgana stays downstairs. Ohya looks down at the cat. "He's so sensitive."

"You've got no idea," Morgana replies, with a purr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, hope you had a great weekend!
> 
> I hate to do this, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a break from Crimson. Between school, work, and the usual life related shit, I don't have the time to give this story the attention it deserves. I love writing this story, and I love talking to all of you about it, but my other duties call.
> 
> I will return to it, in a few weeks. I'll be sure to drop a line about when, once I have a better idea about that.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading, commenting, reviewing, Kudo-ing, Favorite-ing, and all other associates ing's. Feel free to drop me a line in the comments or via PM, and I will do my best to get back to you. I'll keep my eyes on my inbox.
> 
> I appreciate your understanding, and I'll see you all soon!


	43. Wide Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smiley Face

5/20

The lunch bell rings.

When Ann turns to him, it is slow, as if she's unsure whether she even should. It has been another silent, awkward day in class. "Hey," she says, but won't meet his eyes.

"Yeah?" Akira asks. He is far removed from the relief of seeing her step out, safe, from Madarame's office.

"Want to go see our scores?"

The announcement had come earlier, accompanied by the typical chorus of groans and heads collapsing onto desks. Akira does not answer for a while. He wants to say several things. What he says instead is, "Sure," and stands.

The two file out of the room, several hands worth of distance between them. A procession of students marches its way towards the stairwell, their faces a majority mix of indifference and fear. A few look excited. Stomping his way against this tide, is Ryuji.

Ann steps in front of him, and crosses her arms. "Where are you going?"

"Huh?" He asks, glancing from her to Akira, and back again. "N-nowhere."

"Uh-huh," she says, eyes narrowing. "You just don't want to see how you did on your tests."

He opens his mouth in what looks to be protest, then his face falls. "Yeah, so?"

Ann's softens. "I'm sure you didn't do that bad. We're going to go look ourselves, come with us."

"No thanks," Ryuji replies, eyes falling to the floor. "It's cool."

Akira steps forward and lays a hand on Ryuji's shoulder. "You've got to look eventually, right? I'm sure I didn't do that great either."

Ryuji frowns. "What're you talking about, man? You're like, super smart."

Akira chuckles, and lowers his arm. "Yeah, and I spent the night before Thursday's test in a bar getting grilled by Ohya and Lala-chan. I wasn't exactly in the best shape."

A grin cracks Ryuji's face. "I guess we all had shit on our minds."

"Yeah," Ann says, stepping up alongside them. "So, come on. Rip the bandage off, right? It's not like my scores are going to be awesome."

Ryuji capitulates with a nod and turns into the mass of students. Akira sticks his hands in his pockets and walks beside him. He feels relief to have a buffer between himself and Ann, then feels guilt over it being Ryuji. By the time they reach Shujin's first floor, he's shoved the thoughts aside.

The board with the test scores is swarmed, and the noise is a white cacophony of whispers, shouts of excitement, and moans of things not excitement.

Stricken with sudden bravery, Ryuji shoves his way through the crowd, Akira and Ann following in his wake. When he reaches the front, his eyes skim the board, and he lets out a small groan. "Damn..."

Akira closes the distance between them, and finds his friend's name at the bottom of the list. Or rather, second to last.

"H-hey," Ann says, and pats the blonde boy on his shoulder. "You're not dead last. That's... something."

"Yeah, it's real awesome," Ryuji replies, and points to the name right above his. "This guy's been out with pneumonia for the last month. So the guy who doesn't even come to school still does better than me." He shakes his head and steps back into the crowd. A few others glance toward him, barely contained smiles on their faces. Akira throws a few scowls their way before they straighten their looks out. _Assholes_.

"Alright," Ryuji says, forcing some brightness into his voice. "Let's see what you guys got!"

The three move to Akira and Ann's respective board. Ann gets there first, and finds her name almost immediately. "Okay," she says, nodding. "Not bad." She's smack dab in the middle, Akira sees. His eyes hover around her name, searching for his own. He can't find it.

Then he feels an elbow jabbing into his shoulder, again and again. "Ow, what?" He asks Ryuji.

The boy's eyes are wide, and his mouth is hanging open. "Dude," he says, and points. Akira follows his finger and sees his name.

_Number... seven?_

"Dude, dude, dude!" Ryuji says, and starts slapping Akira's shoulder. "Top ten, man! Top freakin' ten! That's freakin' awesome! Freakin' incredible!" The louder he gets, the more eyeballs turn to them. The surrounding student conversations die down, and louder whispers pick up their slack.

"...got lucky..."

"...way he did that well..."

"...blackmailed the teachers, no other way..."

He hears these things, and feels his mood blacken, but then Ryuji throws his arm around Akira's shoulders and laughs, and Akira looks at his friend, and suddenly the voices around him seem very small and very far away.

Akira smiles. "Alright man," he says, with a soft chuckle. "Calm down."

He looks at Ann, and sees her face twisted up into a smile, but a misshapen one.

He remembers another young woman's face, all gnarled up.

"You must be, like, a super genius or something," Ryuji states, still elated.

_No_ , Akira thinks. _I just had a good tutor._

#

The atelier was a bust. Akira and Ohya had planted themselves across from it for an hour. No one had entered. No one had left. They'd taken a peek inside, but found more of the same. Shit conditions and threadbare furniture.

"Let's bounce," Ohya had said.

"Where?"

"I've got a hunch."

He hadn't had a chance to run the atelier through the MetaNav, so he'd texted Ryuji the address on the burner, and requested he follow up. Then, he'd schlepped along after Ohya.

She hadn't elaborated on her hunch, but they'd boarded a train heading for Tokyo Bay, much to Akira's puzzlement.

Their trip lasts that awkward time between too long and just long enough. They ride the line with the beleaguered salarymen and women, eyes glued to screens, or their newspapers, or just plain shut. Ohya keeps quiet for the duration, and Akira sits beside her, uncomfortable in the strange silence between the two of them.

He wonders, for instance, if she knows he has turned his phone off for today's excursion. Knowing Ohya can see his GPS is troubling, and he had racked his brain all night trying to figure out a way of limiting her knowledge of his activities. Then he realized he could just keep his phone off. He used the burner for Phantom Thief business anyway.

They ride, and as they go, people rise from their seats and leave, as quietly as they'd sat. When enough people are gone, Akira leans towards Ohya and asks, "Are you going to tell me what this hunch of yours is, or am I going to have to guess again?"

Ohya blinks, as if coming out of a daze, and gives him a smile. She pulls her phone out, holds it up and points to another red pin on the GPS. "We're going here," she says.

"What's that?" He asks. "Another house Madarame owns?"

She shakes her head. "Not quite." She says no more, until a short while later, when they've arrived at the bay, exited the train, and are marching away from the station.

"Ahhhh," Ohya exclaims, after taking a deep breath. "Smell that sea air!"

"Smells like fish," Akira replies. "Not so great, fish."

Ohya lets out a sigh. "You must be really fun to hang out with in ordinary circumstances."

Akira ignores her and takes in his surroundings. "It's nothing but warehouses and... uh, warehouses."

She nods. "Yep. No houses here. Not in this district anyway. We're heading to Natsuki Storage."

"What's Natsuki Storage?"

She lifts her phone back up. "This little dot on the map."

"What's it got to do with Madarame?"

"Glad you asked."

"This is like, the third time I've asked."

"Quiet. Now then, when you first hacked Madarame's phone for me-"

"You never said thanks by the way."

"Hey! I'm paying you back by taking you along! You should be the one thanking me. Anyway, after Madarame's phone _was_ hacked, I told you I narrowed down the suspicious locations based on places he visited frequently. But, after I got home last night, it dawned on me I had also ruled out places he'd been _infrequently_."

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean, that Madarame visits Natsuki Storage once every five to six weeks."

"I'm assuming Natsuki Storage is a storage facility."

Ohya claps her hands. "You're getting smarter all the time."

Akira feels his face flush and he glances away. "Shut up."

"But you're right. It's simple. No different from an apartment or safe deposit box. You rent a room, get a key, and pay your rent once a month. No one can go in but you."

Akira mulls this over. "What does Madarame need with a storage facility?"

Ohya nods, and her smirk turns mischievous. "Annndddd?"

Akira stares at the concrete he stands on. "And why would he need a storage facility way out in Tokyo Bay? There's got to be others closer to him."

"Exactly," Ohya says. "What's he got that he has to keep in a storage facility, out in Tokyo Bay? What's he hiding? I did a little digging on Natsuki Storage, last night. I couldn't find much on them. Their website looks like it was built in the nineties and-"

"Kind of like your outfit," Akira mutters.

Ohya glares at him. "Are you done?" He shrugs. "And their phone number just rang and rang when I called it."

Akira thinks this over as they walk. Does he really need to do this? If the atelier is Madarame's Palace, then all they need are the keywords and they can steal Madarame's heart and be done with it. Did it matter what the old man kept in this place?

_What if the atelier isn't the Palace?_ Was there someplace else that Madarame kept, or thought of, as his Palace? The atelier had been a dump, and Akira has a hard time believing anyone could think anything positive about it.

"Here we are," Ohya says, stopping outside a one-story building that extends far back towards the waterline. The words 'Natsuki Storage' are scrawled on the wall in black paint. A rusty looking chain-link fence bridges the distance between the building, and the two empty-looking warehouses it stands in the middle of. "Here's the plan," Ohya says. "We're going to go in there and pretend we want to rent a storage unit."

"I'm guessing we shouldn't say anything about Madarame?"

"Correct," Ohya says, nodding. "It's not like the bozo manning the front desk is going to have any idea who that is. They probably keep all their records in a filing cabinet and don't take them out except to ensure a client is paid up. Just let me do the talking."

"Sure," Akira replies, and follows as she steps inside.

The first thing Akira notices is the eyes of the man at the desk. They are not the eyes of a bozo. Akira feels them clawing over his skin like a rake, sizing him up. He's young, maybe in his mid-twenties, and dressed in a comfortable short-sleeved shirt, and jeans. A cigarette trails small patterns into the air around his slicked-back hair.

The office itself is small and dark and silent. A muted television screen playing a baseball game, and a beat-up looking lamp behind the desk are the only sources of light.

"Hi," Ohya says, but Akira notices an edge in her voice. She hadn't expected this either.

"Help you?" The young man asks, his voice low and raspy.

"My cousin and I are looking to rent a storage unit, and-"

"Full up."

Ohya blinks. "Excuse me?"

"I said, we're full up. Booked to capacity. No new clients. Besides, we only operate by referral."

Ohya's eyebrow cocks. "A storage facility that only takes referrals?"

"Doctors do it."

"How would I get a referral?"

He smiles a bit. "You'd have to know someone who could refer you."

Akira doesn't like this. There's something off about the man. Something off about the whole place. He has to believe that Ohya can sense that too, but the woman can't let go of something she's sunk her teeth into. "Do you know someone who could refer me?"

"Listen girl," the man says, and takes a drag of his cigarette before telling them _what_ they need to listen to. "You're thinking about this all wrong. Even if you got a referral, we're full up."

"That's hard to believe, given that there's zero information about you online."

"That's why we got the referrals, and you found us alright." He looks over at Akira. "How come that one isn't talking?"

"He's not the talkative type," Ohya replies.

"What'd you know? That's my favorite type of person."

"Well, thanks for your help," Ohya mutters. "I don't suppose you'd know of any other place to look?"

"Not here."

"Right."

She turns and motions for Akira to follow. When they’re outside, he turns to her and says, "Oh man."

"That was interesting," she says, mostly to herself.

"What about that was interesting?" Akira asks. "We didn't learn anything."

"I'd say we learned something very significant," Ohya says, a smile creeping its way back across her face. "We learned that Madarame likely keeps a storage unit at a facility run by the Yakuza."

Akira's eyes widen. _Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa_. "Yakuza?" He asks, and turns back towards the building's door, suddenly afraid the guy would be standing right behind him.

Ohya nods. "Oh yeah. Big time. Couldn't you tell?"

"No!"

"Oh. Well, look harder next time. Because that guy might as well have had ‘Yakuza’ tattooed on his forehead. Come on." She nods her head towards the street. "We've got to come up with a strategy."

"To find out if Madarame really has a storage unit there?" He asks.

She nods. "And what’s inside it. If only we had some way of getting in there. Right now, it's just speculation."

Akira thinks about this, and smiles.

#

Ryuji yawns. "My feet hurt."

"Stop complaining" Morgana replies. "It's not like we're doing anything all that hard. Are we almost there?"

Ryuji glances at his phone. "Few more blocks."

"This atelier better be the Palace," Morgana mumbles.

"Tell me about it. This was a lot easier back when I discovered it was the school."

"Didn't you say you said a few words and the app on Akira's phone picked it up? I don't know if I'd count that as _discovering_ anything."

"Can it, cat," Ryuji mutters. "Let me have this."

They continue on, until Morgana mutters, "So, we need to talk."

"About what?" Ryuji asks, frowning. In his text, Akira had asked Ryuji to take Morgana along, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He checks himself. _C'mon, he's not so bad. Okay, yeah, he's annoying as shit, but he's part of the team, so stop being a tool_. He clears his throat and says, "What's up?"

"What'd you think?" Morgana hisses up at him, reminding Ryuji just why the cat is his least favorite friend. "The whole, 'Akira and Ann,' thing."

"Oh," Ryuji sighs. "That."

"Yes, _that_. We need to figure out how to fix things between them. Because it's bad."

"Wasn't so bad at the exhibit."

"Yeah, but that was during a mission. In case you haven't noticed, they're hardly talking. I don't know if they've even said anything to one another since the other day."

"They were talking today. When we got our grades." Although, when Ryuji reflects on it, they hadn't actually been talking to each other. They'd each been talking to him. And he'd been talking to both of them. He grimaces. "I think I see what you mean."

It shames him to admit it, but he'd been trying to ignore the whole thing since it had started. It hadn't felt like his business. That didn't mean he didn't have an opinion. He kicks a stray pebble on the sidewalk. "But what're we supposed to do about it? Ann's not gonna apologize anytime soon."

Morgana halts. "Wait, why would Lady Ann apologize?"

Ryuji feels his eyes widen as he turns back to the cat. "Huh? You think _Akira_ should apologize?"

"Well," Morgana mutters. "Maybe not apologize, but I don't think Lady Ann should have to."

"Like hell she shouldn't!" Ryuji shouts, throwing his hands in the air. "She went ballistic! That whole, 'choose between me and Niijima-senpai' thing? That was nuts!"

"Wh-what'd you expect?" Morgana hisses. "Makoto totally messed with Shiho, and besides, she was investigating us! Akira was getting way too chummy with her."

Ryuji raises his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Are we so sure she's even investigating us?"

"Geez, it's no wonder your grades are so low! I told you, genius, I stole her notebook. She referred to Akira as, 'the target,' and-“

"I never said she wasn't investigating us," Ryuji cuts in.

"Yes you did! You just did, like five seconds ago!"

"I meant," Ryuji shouts. "That we're not sure _why_ she's doing it."

"Ugh, you are so stupid! I heard that conversation where-"

"You overheard a convo between the Principal and Makoto. You also said you only heard a part of it. It just seems to me, that we're so freaked out about the whole 'being investigated by the Student Council President,' thing, that we've haven't bothered to ask, why the _freaking Student Council President_ would bother investigating us in the first place. No one’s wondering what the full story is?"

"Everyone _has_ been wondering that, Bonehead. But we can't afford to hope the full story is a good one. If Makoto was so innocent, why didn't she tell us right off the bat? Why'd she question Shiho?"

Ryuji nods. "I admit, that was pretty effed up. I don't know, okay? All I know is that Niijima-senpai apologized to me for something that I didn't even know she did, and it's kind of weird that someone who would do that, would turn out to be a bad guy. I mean, we spent all this time trying to throw her off, and we've got someone stealin’ other peoples’ art we should be focusing on. Doesn't it seem like our priorities are all out of whack?"

"We're focusing now, aren't we?" Morgana asks. "That's what we were just doing. But look, we're getting sidetracked. What's most important is figuring out how to fix things between Akira and Lady Ann. Personally, I think Akira should make the first move."

"No way, dude. Ann may have been feeling bad over what happened to Shiho, but she took it way too far. She should apologize first."

"Lady Ann shouldn't have to-"

"Oh my god, would you stop doing that?" Ryuji yells.

Morgana blinks. "Doing what?"

"The whole, 'Lady Ann' thing. Dude, we all know you're crushing on her."

"I-is it that obvious?" Morgana asks, eyes wide.

"It's pretty much a running joke at this point."

The cat stutters a few times before he manages, "Irrelevant! We _need_ to get them to stop fighting! We need a plan!"

"A plan?" Ryuji asks. He stops and thinks. "Okay, how about we lock them in a room somewhere and don't let them leave until they hash everything out?"

Morgana stares up at Ryuji. "That's the dumbest plan I've ever heard."

"Do you have a better one?"

Morgana blinks, and is silent for a moment. "Where would, this, uh, room be?"

Ryuji shrugs. "I dunno. Could we do it at LeBlanc?"

Morgana shakes his head. "I don't think so. Sojiro probably wouldn't appreciate it. How about at school?"

"Where at school? It's like, a school. There are people around."

Morgana sighs. "I'm not sure I like this plan."

"We don't need to overcomplicate this shit and..." He trails off as he glances at his phone. "Hold up, dude. This is it."

They raise their eyes to the dilapidated building of rotting wood and rusted shutters standing before them.

"Damn," Ryuji says. "Don't know what I expected, but this place is a dump."

"No kidding," Morgana replies. "He's right to call it a shack. I'll check it out." Ryuji shakes his head.

"Wait a second, man. Let's settle this once and for all." He pulls up the Metaverse Nav on his phone and says, "Madarame. Atelier. Abuse."

"No result," the phone buzzes.

"Madarame. Atelier. Plagiarism."

"Match found," the phone replies.

Ryuji pumps his fist into the air. "Alright!"

He grins down at Morgana, and the cat smirks right back at him. "Awesome," the cat says. "We finally found it! Now all we need is the last keyword. So, just like Kamoshida's Castle, we need to know what Madarame thinks of this place."

Ryuji shrugs. "But that can't be too hard, right? I mean, he's an artist. He probably thinks of it as an art-like thing."

"An art-like thing?" Morgana asks.

"Come on, you know what I mean."

"Well, let's try it," Morgana says, and starts climbing up Ryuji's leg.

"What're you doin'?"

"Trying to get a better angle to talk to the Nav."

"By clawing my leg?"

"Stop complaining and set me on your shoulder then!"

Ryuji sighs, wraps his arm around Morgana and brings him up to perch on his left shoulder. "I don't know how Akira lives with you."

"Focus, Bonehead! Let's start guessing." Morgana pauses. "You said, 'art' places right? Makes sense." Morgana leans towards the phone and says, "Gallery."

No response. Ryuji stares at it, then stiffens. "Wait, can this thing not understand you?"

"Huh?" Morgana asks, eyes wide. "Are you kidding me?"

Ryuji shifts shoulder around and Morgana holds on for balance. "Well, aren't you just a cat over here? The Nav probably thinks you're just meowing."

"You're telling me I can't use the Nav? That... that _sucks!_ "

"You don't even have a phone."

"It's the principle of the thing, Ryuji! _The principle!"_

"Alright man, chill the hell out! I don't make the rules."

"Yeah well, I'd like to have words with whoever does."

Ryuji considers reminding the cat that he probably once _did_ know who made the rules, but keeps his mouth shut. No use making the cat feel bad.

"Gallery," Ryuji says, on behalf of the cat.

"No match found."

"Art show."

"No match found."

"Try... uh, exhibit."

"Exhibit!"

"No match found."

"This sucks," Ryuji grumbles. Then, he grins. "Oh, Mona, I got it!"

"Yeah?" Morgana asks.

"It's so obvious!" Ryuji cackles, then flourishes the phone once more. "Museum."

"No match found."

"What the hell?"

"Yeah, real obvious."

"What are you doing?" Comes a new voice.

Ryuji jumps and Morgana topples off and to the ground. He spins to find Yusuke standing alongside him, schoolbag gripped in one hand.

"Uh, nothin'. What's it look like I'm doing? What're _you_ doing?"

"I'm journeying home. You look like you're shouting random words into your phone."

"N-no," Ryuji says, and glances down at Morgana. "We're just hanging out."

"You're just hanging out with your cat?"

Ryuji shrugs. "He ain't my cat. He's Akira's."

Yusuke cocks his head to the side. "Do you typically take Akira's cat on walks with you?"

"Moron," Morgana hisses.

"Yep," Ryuji replies. "What's so weird about taking your bro's cat for a walk?"

Yusuke thinks this over. "Nothing, I suppose." Then, his eyes narrow in suspicion. "But, just what are you doing here?"

"I told you, dude. Taking my friend's cat for some exercise."

"Outside my abode?”

Ryuji's mind spins. " _This_ is your place? I had no idea. It's, uh..." he glances back at the atelier. "A building. Definitely a building."

Morgana leans forward until his face is against the sidewalk. "We're the worse thieves ever."

Yusuke studies Ryuji for a moment, then nods. "Indeed, it _is_ a building. Are you perhaps making a comment about the ornamentation of architecture, and how all human dwelling constructions are, in fact, the same, and that it is only our perceptions and the fact that we are held hostage by our cultural attributes that distinguishes them from one another?"

Ryuji says nothing for a long time. Then, he says, "Yes."

Yusuke frowns and makes a small, "hmm,' noise. “Perhaps you are not as foolish as I once believed."

Ryuji feels his face fall. "Thanks." Another idea pops into his head. "Hey man, it's kinda hot out here. Could we like, come inside real quick and get some water? My cat is thirsty."

Morgana looks up at him, a twinkle in his eye.

Yusuke looks down at Morgana and says, "I thought you said this was your friend's cat?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "My cat, Akira's cat, what the hell's the difference? I'm dying out here, bro."

But Yusuke shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. I feel a sense of trepidation, like that which rises within me before the muse strikes. I must retire to my drawing room and prepare to receive it."

"Oh," Ryuji says, as Yusuke turns away. "Well, uh, good luck with that, whatever it is."

"And best of luck to you in exercising that cat," Yusuke says, over his shoulder. The boy retreats to the atelier, opens the door, and vanishes inside.

Ryuji looks down at Morgana. "That guy is really weird."

#

Morgana and Ryuji had tried a few more words, but the MetaNav had only chanted, on and on, "No Match Found."

Frustrated, they had left. Morgana had returned to LeBlanc at approximately the same time as Akira, and the boy had gone upstairs, changed into some darker clothes, and told Morgana to get into his bag.

"Where are we going?" Morgana had asked.

"Infiltration mission," Akira had replied.

Now, they stand outside Natsuki Storage, the sun having just set, the city lights springing up around them. Morgana eyes the chain-link fence, and runs his eyes along the side of the building, looking for his entry point.

"You can do this, right?" Akira asks, nerves suddenly seeping into his voice.

Morgana smiles up at him. "No problem. Get inside. Find where they keep their list of clients, and confirm Madarame's storage unit. Then, get access."

"If you can," Akira says. "If it gets too crazy in there, just get out."

"Oh please," Morgana protests. "I can handle it just fine."

Akira nods. "Okay then." He bends down and lifts Morgana off the ground, and hefts him up towards the top of the fence. Morgana reaches out, sets his paws between two holes, and grips. "Got it?" Akira asks.

"Got it," Morgana replies, and steadily climbs the rest of his way up to the top. "Piece of cake."

"Good luck, Morgana," Akira replies. "Be careful."

Morgana gets to the top, thankfully absent any kind of barbed wire, and hefts himself over and drops to the ground. He lands softly and runs for the shadow of the building.

It was a pleasant surprise that Akira had wanted to do this, and that he'd been so excited about it. _Finally starting to act like a thief,_ Morgana thinks, then remembers that he's the one who's actually sneaking into the building.

It's been hard the last few weeks. Ever since Kamoshida's fall, really. The fighting, the anxiety, the lack of purpose. But now, with Madarame firmly in their sights, they can really drill down and focus. Get back to their jobs.

He finds what appears to be a service entrance around the back of the building. He hops up and jiggles the handle with his paw, but it's locked. Sighing, the cat brandishes a claw and sticks it in the lock. Minutes of nothing pass, but Morgana keeps his focus. This is his time to shine, after all.

When the lock clicks, Morgana has to stop himself from letting out a whoop of excitement, and drops back to the ground and into the shadows as the door creaks open. It reveals a room empty of people with some maintenance paraphernalia pushed up against the wall, a mop and water collector, a few sets of tools, spare lightbulbs. Beyond all this is another door, and when Morgana tries this one, he discovers it unlocked.

Morgana exits and finds himself at the tail end of a long, white hallway. Matching doors with numbers etched onto them line the hall, and attached to each door is a card reader. _Damn_ , Morgana thinks. Even if he can determine which unit is Madarame's, he can't hack a card reader with his paw. Muttering curses, Morgana begins to trot down the hall, looking for wherever the records are kept.

A door marked, 'Records,' answers that. _Simple enough_ , he thinks, and is ecstatic to find it unlocked, and unoccupied. The room is a typical office, with a desk and chair on the one end, and three sets of filing cabinets on the other. He darts over, opens the first draw and begins to rifle through the names. He doesn't recognize any of them.

The soft sound of footsteps echo from outside, and Morgana shuts the file he's looking through and sprints into the space between the desk, where he crouches in the shadows.

The door opens and a young man enters, cigarette between his lips. On his tail is another man, this one older, dressed in a business suit. The young man moves to the filing cabinet, opens one draw, and spends a few seconds searching. He pulls out a file, and turns to the man. “Well?”

The older man reaches into his pocket and withdraws a wad of bills. He extends them to the young man, who takes them, flips through them a few times, and nods. He moves to the desk, and Morgana tries to make himself smaller, but the man doesn’t notice him. Morgana hears the rustling of paper from above him, and then the young man says, “You’re all paid up. Feel free to go inside.”

The older man nods, and exits. The younger man returns to the cabinet, returns the file, and follows.

Morgana sneaks back over to the cabinet and slides it open. He continues to go through the names, and when he can't find Madarame's, he goes to the next. And the next.

He searches through each name, but Madarame's name is nowhere to be found. _Is there nothing here? Has this just been a waste of time?_ Then, his eyes fall on one name in particular. It catches his attention, but it isn't until he's passed it by that he thinks to go back and look. _What's this?_

With his jaw, he yanks the file out and opens it up. _Unit 47. Paid in full_. But it is the name that stands out to him. The more Morgana thinks about it, the more convinced he becomes. Madarame's name isn't in the filing cabinet.

With more difficulty than he will later admit, Morgana rolls the thin file up and puts it in his mouth. Then, he gingerly makes his way to the door, peers out, and ensured that the coast is clear, bolts for the back entrance. He dashes outside, around the bend, and sprints for the fence. Akira is waiting for him.

"What's that?" He asks, from the other side.

"'ere!" Morgana hisses and slides the file between the chain-link holes. "'eke it!"

Akira grabs the file and pulls it free, and Morgana starts to climb the fence. When he gets to the top, Akira reaches us his arms and Morgana jumps into them.

"You okay?" Akira asks.

"Just fine."

"What is this?" Akira asks, and holds the rolled up paper in his hand.

"Look at the name."

Akira does. His eyes widen. "Do you think...?"

"It can't be a coincidence, right?"

Akira nods, and stuffs the file into his bag. "We need to talk to Yusuke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> I'm back and so is Crimson, to kick 2018 off right.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience, and for continuing to read and talk about Crimson in my absence. It delighted me to see that little 'Hit Counter' rising each day. Again, thank you!
> 
> A lot of you are probably wondering what the posting schedule will be like. Well, after a lot of consideration, I've decided to alternate weeks. What I mean is that, one week, I'll post MWF, and the following week, I'll post MF. Then, the week after that, I'll do MWF, and so on and so forth.
> 
> So, basically, for this week, I'll also post chapters on Wednesday and Friday. Next week, the week of the 8th, I'll post on Monday and Friday. This way, the pace remains consistent, but I've still got some wiggle room. Every month should churn out about 10 chapters or so. My final semester of grad school is coming up, so I may have to take some time off then, but I'll be sure to let you know.
> 
> An aside, I recently set up a Twitter. https://twitter.com/DowdzWritesALot
> 
> Feel free to drop by and say 'Hello,' as I'm always happy to hear from you wonderful people.
> 
> And, as ever, thank you so much for reading! See you soon!


	44. Confirmations

5/21

Iwai prefers not to use names. They are, he has come to accept, a necessary inconvenience of life. It is easier for him to attach a short descriptor to an image. His customers fall frequently into this classification.

_Short haired weasel._

_Anime haircut_.

 _Sweatshirt obsessed virgin_.

That isn't to say he never uses names. He just opts for the simpler option when it suits him. Kaoru gets his own name.  A few others, too.

When the door opens and two girls step inside - the taller one holding it ajar for the shorter - he dubs them, 'tallish short haired girl,' and 'pink cardigan girl.' They are not something he expects to see in his shop. _Getting to be the norm around here_. He lets his gaze drop back to the magazine he'd been reading, and listens to two sets of footsteps, one receding deeper into the store, and the other approaching him, and stopping just short of the counter.

"Hello," comes a voice, cool and mature.

Iwai groans, shuts the magazine as loudly as it allows itself to be, and rolls his head up until he's facing 'tallish short haired girl.' "Need somethin'?"

"I'm hoping you could help me. I'm looking for a gift, for my boyfriend."

His metaphorical hackles rise. The way she'd said 'boyfriend' felt off, like she was pushing the word out of her throat. He jerks his head towards the many replica firearms lining the wall behind him. "These don't make romantic presents. Can't you make him chocolates or whatever?" _That's what girls who like boys do, right?_ He thinks to ask Kaoru, then smiles. That one wouldn't know.

"I'd rather get him something more personal. He's a gun enthusiast. I believe he's shopped here before, actually."

Iwai thinks of 'short haired weasel,' and 'anime haircut,' and 'sweatshirt obsessed virgin.' No way one of them landed a girl this anatomically correct. "Describe him."

She frowns, then says, "Um, well, his name is Akira Kurusu."

Iwai keeps his face under control. "Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name."

Her eyes narrow a fraction. "Are you sure? Akira is a fairly common name."

"Then I must only know a bunch of uncommon people." He mentally kicks himself. He's doing it again. Giving lip. Being cute. His defenses are up. The situation reminds him too much of others he's been in. Interrogation rooms and solitary lamps burning dull fluorescents into his retinas. But this isn't a cop, it's a high school girl. And this isn't a precinct. It's a shop. _His_ shop.

Still, something's off about the girl. It's her poise. Her precise way of speaking. It reeks of law. He learned a long time ago how to sniff something like that out.

Iwai wrestles his mind back under control and thinks. Akira has never mentioned a girlfriend. There’s that blonde girl, but they definitely aren’t together. So, who was this? And Akira - for all his faults - wasn't stupid enough to tell some outsider about their little arrangement, was he?

He stops himself. Technically, Iwai hasn't done anything illegal. Burner phones were on the up and up. That they were the favorite of drug dealers and criminals was irrelevant.

"This... what'd you say his name was?" He asks.

"Akira Kurusu."

"Right, this Kurusu guy. Did he say he was here?"

Rather than answer, tallish short haired girl says, "He's tall, and lean. His hair is black and messy, and he wears glasses."

He rolls the dice. "Oh," he mutters. "The quiet one. Yeah, I know him."

The girl blinks, but it's enough for Iwai to suppress a smile. _Hadn't expected that answer, eh?_ "He's been here a few times. I don't ask for names, on principle. You're his girlfriend?" He looks her up and down and flashes his most repulsive grin. "How'd he manage that?"

Her face reddens, and her next sentence starts with a stammer. "Do you remember what he bought?"

Iwai presses his sudden advantage. "Seriously. How'd someone like that kid get someone like you?" It's one of the older tricks. Make the one asking the questions answer questions. Uncomfortable questions. He's seen veterans of the interrogation exchange crumple with just a few well-intentioned sounding barbs.

This girl, though.

The red leaves her cheeks. She says, "I punched him in the face."

His composure fails him, and he barks a laugh. The sound is sharp and pinballs its way through the shop. It surprises even him. The girl looks nonplussed. "Guess that's one way to stake a claim," he says.

The corners of her mouth curl up. "I suppose. Do you recall what he bought?"

He throws up a not-too-casual shrug, and raps his knuckles against the glass of the counter. "Just a pistol or two. Big ones, but cheap. Not the kind that would fool anyone." Disclaimers are important.

"I see." She finally peels her gaze from him and stares down through the glass counter. Her eyes brighten a fraction, and she points at a replica revolver on the shelf inside. "Could I see that one?"

Iwai opens the cabinet and removes it. He holds it out, and she lifts it up better than any amateur he's seen. With a flick, she pops out the loader, spins it, and snaps it back. The sound is dulled by the fact that it's plastic, but the heft of it is similar to the real thing. "You've got an eye," he tells her. "That's a Type 26. First-"

"It's the first Japanese revolver adopted by the Japanese military," she replies. "It's old. Hasn't been used since the second world war." She turns it over, eyes wide in admiration. When she catches him staring, she says, "I'm at the top of my class."

"Want to buy it?"

Her face freezes, and she sets it back on the counter. "I don't think so. I'm not sure it would suit him."

"I wasn't sayin' you should buy it for him." At this, tallish short haired girl's lips suck in, and her eyes begin to run over the gun, again and again. He smiles despite himself. _She's actually considering it_.

"Thanks, but no. If you had to recommend something for Akira, what would it be?"

"The most expensive thing in the store," he replies.

She fixes him with a tired gaze, but the edge is gone. She looks almost comfortable.

He decides to keep her off-balance. "If you don't want the gun, I've got some brass knuckles. In case this boyfriend of yours gets out of line again."

She smiles, and looks about to reply, when an exclamation of excitement echoes from the back of the store. "Oh _my!_ ”

Iwai glances over tallish short haired girl's shoulder, and sees 'pink cardigan girl' step out from the shelves. "Look at this one, Mako-chan!" She calls, absolute joy sketched across her face.

She holds a replica RG-6 Grenade Launcher, primarily used by the Russian military.

"What," he says.

Tallish short haired girl's smile grows. " _That_ definitely suits you, Haru."

#

Yusuke finds the batting cages at the top of an exacting set of stairs. The entire experience of ascension leaves him feeling quite surly upon reaching them. Surprise snaps into him. Having never been to a place such as this, he had assumed it alight with the banter of young ruffians, put upon parents, and the clatter and clanging of baseballs and their respective bats.

All he finds is a napping clerk behind the cash register, and his new acquaintances sitting outside the furthest cage from the entrance.

Ann, he sees, has her elegant fingers wrapped through the chain-link, her eyes faraway and mouth folded in on itself in worry. A piece begins to construct itself in his mind, before he thinks to wonder what she's worried about.

Ryuji spins a baseball bat in a slow rotation in his hands, the top of the blunt object flat against the ground, revolving like a drill going nowhere. Bespectacled Akira leans against the wall, hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his uniform, a tired look writ across his face.

The cat sits with its tail dangling off the edge of a thin, metal bench. It is the first to see him enter, and when it meows, the eyes of the others snap to him.

Ann speaks first. "Yusuke, hi."

"Good afternoon," he says, and sets his schoolbag alongside the cage. "It is-" He starts to say, but a pang stabs his stomach, and he distracts himself from the sensation with exaggerated movement, and takes a seat next to the cat. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabs at the sweat that has bubbled up along his forehead. "Apologies. It is good to see you all. May I ask what prompted you to call me out here?"

He has a lot of work to do. The muse had pierced him the night before, and he'd gotten a significant amount done. Yet, he'd stopped himself before completion, and so had had to forego dinner. It's not something he is worried about. He'll stagger his finish dates sometimes. The accentuated hunger makes him feel the art all the more, and the delayed gratification he receives for a job well done is worth every cold sweat and spell of dizziness.

His mind drifts to the meal he might request from Sensei. Perhaps some takioyaki. Or sushi. Or curry. Or udon. Or soba. Perhaps even a hamburger, or something exquisite and foreign. Something French, or Italian. Their fare is supposedly delectable. He may be able to convince Sensei to spring for pizza. Or pasta. There is that shrimp-thing he has seen in some magazines. Or perhaps he will forego all of that, and simply pick a place at random. His daily sojourn to Kosei takes him past many an enticing hole-in-the-wall establishment, the smell of their rich dishes wafting out into the stale Tokyo air, snaking its way into his nostrils, _infecting_ him, and-

"Yusuke?" It is Akira's voice.

He blinks himself back to the present, and feels the flush of his skin. His stomach quivers. It no longer growls. "I am sorry," he says, quickly. "I seem to have lost myself for a moment. You were saying?"

"We wanted to ask you somethin'," Ryuji says, his eyes and tone hard.

"By all means."

"Yusuke," Ann starts, and glances at the other two boys - as well as the cat, oddly enough - before she continues with, "What was your mother's name?"

The question gallops through him, and it is a long moment before he can say, "I admit, I did not expect that. Why do you wish to know?"

"You said she was a painter, right?" Ann says. "We wanted to know if we could see anything by her. Anything she painted."

"Ah," Yusuke smiles, and he knows from experience that it must come off as sad, but that is truly not how he feels. "Unfortunately, she never painted anything of note. Sensei says that, had she lived, she would have become one of the greats."

"Was she an apprentice to Madarame too?" Akira asks.

"Indeed. He took me in due to his affection for her." Then he adds, without even thinking about it, "He's a great man."

The three - no, four if you count the cat - exchange chary looks with one another. Yusuke begins to wonder just why they asked him all the way to Yongen-jaya. He begins to wonder why they are the only ones at the batting cages. He begins to wonder if these fellow teenagers have ulterior and sinister motives. _Am I to be mugged?_

"Yusuke," Ann says, insistent. "What was your mother's name?"

"Well, if you must know, it was Chisako Kitagawa."

He can feel the tension that dashes about their bodies when they steal looks at each other this time. It pumps through him and the headache behind his eyes that he's been carrying since waking, builds in pressure by a few fractions. He rubs his temple with one hand, and rests the other on his leg. "I would like to know why you are asking me this. I am beginning to suspect ill intentions." He glares at Ryuji. “Be aware, that I no longer believe you were just exercising that cat yesterday."

The scowl doesn't leave Ryuji's face. The cat meows.

"Why were you at the atelier?" Yusuke demands. He punctuates the question, by curling his free hand into a fist and bringing it down on the metal bench. It is meant to intimidate, but it only hurts his hand.

"Yusuke," Akira says, and Yusuke cannot stand how many times his name has been said in that tone of voice. Soft, and hesitant. As if they _pity_ him. As if he were some kind of _victim_. As if they were in any place to look down on _him_. "I think you should talk to a friend of mine," the boy continues. "She's a reporter, and-"

The word slices through the fog in his mind. "Ah- _ha!_ ” Yusuke shouts, and stands. The sudden movement makes his head spin, but then the anger hooks him in its arms and he forges ahead. "I knew this situation stank of villainy! You want me to talk to a reporter? Why? So you can write an article on Sensei? Are you so unsatisfied with his lack of appearances, of his refusal to cater to the whims of the media, that you have to stoop this low? Vultures! How dare you disrespect his privacy? How dare you use me to do so?" The last few words he yells, and the four - cat included - jump at the sudden shift.

 _Good_.

"To think I believed this the seed of genuine friendship. When in truth, it was conspiracy!"

Ann pats the air with her hands. "Yusuke, calm down. We-"

" _Conspiracy_ , I say!" Tiny specks of kaleidoscopic colors pepper his vision, but he ignores them. "Sensei told me to never talk to you people, that you're all parasites, swarming and devouring, seeking to profit from his fame and talent!"

Akira steps up to him. "Did you just say Madarame told you to _never_ talk to reporters?"

Yusuke feels his breath grow more ragged, the inside of his chest rattling like an empty paint can with a single yen coin in it. "I will not betray his confidence. I will not trample on what Madarame has given me!"

And then Ryuji closes the distance between them, seizes Yusuke by the shoulders, and gives him a single, solid shake. He hears the words, "Get your shit tog-" but then a rumbling darkness rises up to claim him, and he sees and hears no more.

#

Yusuke drops to the ground, out of Ryuji's grasp, and lies still.

The Phantom Thieves look at him, then at one another.

"Nice going, Bonehead," Morgana hisses. "You killed him!"

#

Tae Takemi is beginning to believe she's lost all control of her life.

The slip had started what feels like forever ago, but has been aggravated by the persistent presence of one particularly troublesome schoolboy.

First, Akira Kurusu had shown up at her place, blunderingly, albeit cutely, determined to get his hands on 'medicine.' She had fingered him a perfect candidate for her experiments, and so their relationship had begun.

Then, she'd found the bruises on his body.

Then, he'd gotten the shit kicked out of him by that teacher, and had made her lie.

Then, he'd shown up, hands shaking like leaves, having just witnessed a death.

Then, she'd found the PhanSite, and put two and two together.

And with each 'then' she dug herself deeper and deeper into the shit. Aiding and abetting doesn't feel harsh enough for what she's doing.

So, when Akira bursts into her office, in the middle of the afternoon, accompanied by his entourage of two blondes and a cat, carrying - between the three of them - an unconscious boy, Takemi is decidedly having _none_ of it.

"Kurusu," she yells, unable to contain herself. "What the actual _fuck?_ "

"I don't know," the boy stammers, not bothering to wait but storming through the waiting room to the exam area. "He just fainted at the batting cages."

Takemi feels a - what her mother used to call - 'murder smile' carve itself across her face, and shoves herself to her feet, and is halfway to the door she'd seen them go through, before she turns, runs back into the waiting area in her fucking high heels, locks the front door, and shoves a 'Closed' sign into the window.

Then, she sprints to the exam room, which is terrifically crowded.

"He was shouting at us," Akira is telling her, at the same time the blonde girl is saying, "We don't know what happened but he lives in a really crappy building and do you think the dust-" and she cannot hear the rest because the blonde boy is shouting at the cat, "Stop saying it's my fault, dammit," and the cat is hissing up at him, as if insisting that it is, in fact, most definitely his fault.

And so Takemi shouts, " _EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!_ " and everyone shut the hell up, including the cat.

She push her way through the sea of teenagers and leans over the prone boy on the exam table. "Who is this?" She snaps, as she feels for his pulse. It's there, and not too faint, she's happy to see. His breathing is steady as well.

"His name is Yusuke Kitagawa," Akira says.

"What happened to him?"

"He fainted."

"Where?"

"At the batting cages down the block."

"Did anything hit him? A baseball or anything?" She gingerly presses her hands to his scalp. There's no tender bits or bumps that she can feel. Her practiced eyes roll over his complexion. It's pale. Other things begin to alarm her.

"No."

"What was he doing, right before he fainted?"

"He was upset with us. He thought we were-"

"I didn't ask what he _thought_. I asked what he was _doing_."

Akira clears his throat. "He stood up really fast and started yelling at us. I don't know, he seemed kind of unsteady the whole time. Even before he was mad. Then, he just collapsed." The cat meows, and Akira says, "Ryuji shook him, once, but I don't think that's what did it."

"Nice to know I'm not the only doctor here," Takemi replies. "Is he diabetic?"

Even with her eyes on the unconscious Yusuke, she can almost feel them staring at each other. "We're not sure," Akira says. "I don't think so."

"I'm guessing you don't know his medical history either."

"No, I'm sorry."

So she was in the dark. Fine. "You," she says, and points to the blonde boy. "Take that cat and get out of this room."

Ryuji gulps but doesn't argue. He scoops the cat up, and exits.

"Have you contacted Yusuke's parents and told them what happened?" She wants to know if she's going to have to.

Akira glances at the girl, who doesn't reply. The silence stretches too long.

"Well?" She snaps.

"Yusuke is an orphan," Akira mutters, and Takemi's hands hesitate for a moment, before they continue their examination. "He's got a guardian. We haven't told him." There's a hitch to his voice, but Takemi can't be bothered to try and figure out what it means.

"Alright," she says. "Both of you, get out."

The two scurry from the room, and leave Takemi with the thought that one of these days, Akira Kurusu is going to need a doctor and it'll be because of something _she_ did to him.

#

Time goes by. The four thieves sit in Takemi's waiting room, silent. Akira can't speak for the others, but he doesn't know what to say. The whole thing has exhausted him, and every time he thinks this, he feels a stab of guilt. What he should be thinking of is Yusuke's wellbeing.

But what can he do?

What can any of them do?

Eventually, the door to the exam area opens, and Takemi sticks her head out. "Kurusu," she says, and jerks her head for him to follow her. He does so, after casting wary glances at the others, and she leads him to an empty exam room. "How's Yusuke?" He asks.

Takemi leans against the exam room's empty desk, and points to the exam table. He hops up onto it. She crosses her legs, and leans forward, like she always does, but there's no fey seductiveness to it this time. "You said he has a guardian. Who is he?"

"Is he okay?"

"Answer the question, Akira."

He finds his throat dry, and needs to wet his lips a few times before he can say, "His name is Ichiryusai Madarame. He's a famous painter. Yusuke is his apprentice." He almost adds, 'one of many,' but keeps that to himself. He wants to see where this is going to go.

Takemi nods, and her brows furrow. "Your friend is severely malnourished. The symptoms you described are consistent with that diagnosis."

"Malnourished?" Akira asks. "You mean, like, he's not eating right?"

She shakes her head. "As in, I wouldn't be surprised if he's not eating _at all_." The words are like twin hammers against his chest, but as he absorbs this, Takemi continues on. "He's underweight. His skin is the wrong kind of pale. You told me he was dizzy from just standing up. Exertion caused him to faint."

"I... I didn't know," he says. "I've only known him a few days. I thought... but, not that."

Takemi looks thrown. "This isn't your fault, Kurusu."

Akira shakes his head. "We invited him out. We asked him questions he didn't want to answer. We pushed him. He-"

She cuts him off. "Stop it. _Now_. You didn't know. You couldn't have known. It's not your fault. You need to _not_ freak out right now, Kurusu."

The words cut deep. _She's right_. He nods. "Sorry. Like I said, I've only hung out with him a few times. I've never seen him eat anything. I don't even think I've seen him take a sip of water."

She smiles then. It isn't much, and there's little feeling behind it, but it's a smile, and it makes him feel a bit better. "As much I don't appreciate you barging in with unconscious teenagers, you did the right thing, bringing him here."

Akira leans his back against the cool wall of the room. He shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

Then, Takemi says, "I'm going to call the police."

His eyes open. "What?"

"This is child abuse," Takemi says, and she stands. "I need to notify the authorities."

A million thoughts sprint through his mind, and Akira jumps off the table. "Please, can you wait a bit? We-" but he stops.

Takemi is staring at him, and the smile is gone now. "Let me guess," she says. "You're going to change his heart, right?"

"Y-yes."

She nods her head towards the door. "Those two blondes out there. I'm guessing they're Phantom Thieves too?"

Akira doesn't reply, but Takemi nods as if he had.

"I'm sorry, Akira," she says. "But I'm not doing this again. I didn't call the police with you and I should-"

"Even if you had, it wouldn't have changed anything," he says.

She holds up a hand, palm out. "Even _if_ that's true, it doesn't change the fact that Madarame's neglect of Yusuke's nutritional needs constitutes child abuse. I am reporting it."

Akira feels his hands ball into fists. "It won't matter. They won't do anything."

"You can't know that."

"Yes, I can."

She looks away from him, not out of shame or guilt or anything like that. Her eyes are still determined. "Well then, I can't. And I choose to believe that someone is going to give a shit and stop this." She puts her hand on the doorknob. "I won't tell them anything about you. I know you won't listen to me. So, you do what you need to do. I'll do the same." She opens the door, and steps out.

#

Madarame stretches across the bed, and yawns. It has been a long day. He'd spent most of it at the gallery, entertaining questions and critics and the usual sycophants. It had gone well enough.

The bathroom door opens, and his girlfriend steps out. She is dressed in the new lingerie he'd bought for her, all black and lacy, and she looks at him seductively, and poses with her hands on her hips, and a little shimmy that makes him smile. Then she nicks her toe against the edge of the dresser, and he scowls. She's drunk. Again.

Before he can be bothered by this for too long, his phone rings. He groans, but reaches for it. There are few people who would dare call him afterhours, and the reasons for doing so were typically good ones.

He freezes when he sees the number is unregistered. He shoots out of bed, faster than he's been in years, and leaves the room, ignoring the protests of his girlfriend. His throat is dry by the time he answers the phone. "Hello?"

"Madarame-san," comes the voice. "Evening, hope I'm not interrupting anything. I'm calling on behalf of your third favorite customer."

He feels a knot tie itself in his chest. "What is it?"

"Hey now, no need to get snippy. This is a courtesy call, after all. We're trying to help you out. Give you a head's up."

"Fine, fine," Madarame snaps. "Just tell me what it is."

"Geez, man. Relax. Or don't. One of your little shitbirds is about to fly the coop."

"What?" He may talk in nonsensical idioms, but that doesn't mean he appreciates it when they're served to him.

"I'm sayin' you've got a problem on your hands. One you need to deal with."

"Oh, for God's sake! I've had enough of your nonsense." He pulls the phone away from his ear, and holds it before him like a microphone, before shouting into it, "Why don't you put your boss on, and maybe he can speak like a normal person and explain whatever damn garbage you're spewing at me!"

There is a brief bit of silence. Then, the voice says, "Hold on."

Madarame feels his pulse shudder in his neck.

More silence, then a new voice. "Madarame." It is not a question. The voice is smooth and soft, but though this is not a voice he has ever heard before, Madarame knows the person speaking is neither.

"Yes?" He manages.

"What about this do you not understand?"

"I just think that if your people want to tell me something, they should speak plainly."

"I would think a man of your stature and artistic sensibilities able to cut through the trappings of veiled speech." There's no humor in the voice, only thin annoyance.

"Please," he says, after swallowing. "Please just tell me what's wrong."

"Yusuke Kitagawa," the voice says. "He's at a doctor's office in Yongen-jaya. The physician just called the police. Apparently, your apprentice is severely underweight and malnourished."

"Fuck," Madarame spits. _That stupid boy!_ "Wait, how do you know that?"

"We have people in the police," the voice replies. "Anything reported to the authorities, related to you, gets passed along to us."

"I... I don't-"

"Let's keep this simple," the voice says. "Whatever method you use to cut your students loose, do it. Now. Yusuke Kitagawa has become a liability to our arrangement. I will not tolerate liabilities to our arrangement."

He surprises himself by finding something resembling a spine. "You don't have to threaten me," he states. "Don't forget that I'm vital to your operations and-"

The voice interrupts. "You've overestimated your importance. You use your scam to make money. We use your scam to make money. But it's not our only scam. It is, however, _your_ only scam. If the scam goes away, we have other scams. If the scam goes away, _you_ don't. Don't misunderstand me. I don't like being misunderstood. The collapse of your scam would inconvenience me. But eventually, things would settle for me and mine. There's always another scam." A pause, and then he says. "You should really remember that, Madarame. There's always another scam."

The line goes dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! I'm glad the last chapter was so well received. Thanks for reading! I'll see you guys on Friday!
> 
> Also, I'd like to mention that the initial seed for the Takemi x Yusuke scene comes from Vivvav's 'Confidant Roulette.' The whole thing is great and well worth your time. Check it out!


	45. The Wall's Writing

5/22

When Yusuke wakes, the mud in his brain allows just two thoughts, each scrambling over the other to be the first to coherence.

' _Where am I?_ ' and ' _How long was I out this time?_ ' It takes only a moment for both to flutter through his mind, and Yusuke pushes up into a sitting position.

He is on some kind of table, lined in ruffled, coarse paper. The room he’s in is a vile cerulean blue. An assortment of paraphernalia catches his eye. A glass cylinder of cotton balls. Charts he cannot decipher, strewn upon the wall. A stethoscope, tossed onto a desk, as if in haste. _A doctor’s office?_ The last he remembers, he'd been at the batting cages in Yongen-jaya. Ann was there. And Akira, with his questions. And the hooligan. Had they brought him here? He can remember the fight, and his outrage at their false motives. The hunger has sapped the anger from him.

All he wants now, is to go home.

He spies his school bag in the corner. _Convenient_. Regardless of their justifications, Yusuke did not consent to being brought here, and will walk out and never return.

He inches the door to the exam room open, and spies an empty hall. Shouldering his bag, he steps out and begins his escape. He's no idea which way is out, but the hall is small enough. He creaks open another door at the end, and finds what appears to be a lobby. Smiling at his deduction, he slides out, and hears a voice that halts him.

"...waiting for hours! I called _yesterday._ Why hasn't anyone shown up yet?" The voice is a woman's, smooth, but edged and frustrated. There is a break in the wall that leads to another office, and Yusuke pokes his head around the side, to find a dark-haired woman in a fetching white coat speaking into a phone. She holds it out before her face, as if her anger could be better transmitted through the signal by position of the phone. "I want someone from the police here, now. Do you not take abuse like this seriously?"

There is a muffled, garbled response that Yusuke cannot hear.

"It's being 'processed?' What the hell does that mean?" Another static reply. "No! Do not put me back on hold. Get up, and walk into your supervisor's office. Tell him to get _his_ or _her_ ass down here. This is a kid who is not being fed properly. I'm telling you, it's child abuse."

 _Child abuse?_ He blinks. Could she be referring to him? He almost wants to laugh at the thought, but the intensity of the woman's voice permits no such thing. He wonders, briefly, if he should make his presence known. He's sure he could clear this whole thing up. But she seems unable to comprehend reason at the moment, given her spitfire conversation. _No. I need to get back to Sensei._ He has to explain this to him. He'll know what to do.

Resolute, he ducks down, and sneaks his way past the window to the office. Then, he is out the door, and walking as quickly as he can down the street.

The fatigue grabs him, and spotting a convenience store on the corner, he pauses. He stares at the building for a long time, then walks inside. He buys a candy bar with the smattering of coins in his pocket, and devours it outside.

"Damn," he whispers, once done. He knows this is a stressful situation, but to do something so rash and foolish doesn’t become him. No matter the pain of the hunger, to endure it would ensure his future as an artist.

He shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. There are two missed messages. He blinks. He hadn't been home for the whole night. He had expected more. It didn't matter. Both were from Madarame.

He dials his Sensei's number, and the ring lasts for only a millisecond before it's answered and he hears a voice say, "Where are you?" It is Madarame, but different somehow. Gruff and angry and on edge.

Yusuke sighs. "I'm sorry I worried you, Sensei. I was out in Yongen-jaya and I passed out. It appears some young people took me to a local clinic. I have to see you. There are making some horrid accusations and-"

"Listen to me," Madarame barks, and Yusuke shuts his mouth. "I need you to get to Kosei High. Now."

Yusuke blinks. "But... it's Sunday."

"Never mind that. I've set up a meeting with Principal Oryu. It is imperative that you be there."

"But, we need to talk about what this doctor is-"

"Are you telling _me_ what to do now?" Madarame asks.

"No," Yusuke replies, and he feels and hears his voice crack a little. "But, is this meeting essential? Can it not wait until tomorrow?"

"No," Madarame snaps. "It can't. Get to Kosei."

The call ends.

Yusuke stands on the sidewalk, his stomach roiling at the injection of strange food, his mind - still exhausted- bouncing about, trying to make sense of everything. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and marches to the subway station.

#

It doesn't take him long to get to the school. Yongen-jaya is only one station from Shibuya, after all, and though the train is particularly sweltering, he manages the journey with little physical discomfort. It is the mental anguish that plagues him. Given the seriousness of the doctor's accusations, Yusuke cannot understand why Sensei would set up a meeting at his school on a Sunday.

Kosei is an immaculate building, shining in the sun and modern by architectural standards. Though not as well-known as schools like Shujin, it is no less prestigious.

Yusuke makes his way up to the front entrance, opens the door, and bathes in the A/C for a few moments, before continuing on to the second floor, where Principal Oryu keeps his office.

When he knocks, he hears a short, "Come in," and enters. He finds Principal Oryu, slight and bespectacled, seated at his desk, his fingers in a steeple before his face.

Madarame sits alongside him, his chair just a bit askew from the desk itself.

There is a look on his face. It makes Yusuke very uncomfortable.

"Kitagawa," Principal Oryu says, and collapses the steeple to gesture towards the sole empty chair, across the desk from both of them. "Have a seat."

"Of course," Yusuke says, and slides into it. Neither say anything, and Yusuke can't stop his hands from fidgeting. He folds them, then unfolds them, then tries to stick them in his pockets, and then refolds them once more. All in the span of seconds. "May I-"

"Let's get to the point," Oryu says, his voice heavy. He leans back in his chair, shakes his head, and states, "We know about the plagiarism."

The word is like a hammer to his stomach, but he remains upright, staring. Madarame's face has cracked, and he raises a hand to his eyes as if to spare the others from his tears, and glances away.

"Plagiarism?" Yusuke finally manages. "What're you talking about?" _It wasn't plagiarism. I created those works at Sensei's direction. He created them as much as I. They're trying to ruin him!_ He wouldn't let them. "There is no such thing," Yusuke spits. "Sensei is-"

"Yusuke," Madarame moans. Yusuke's mouth shuts when he sees the look Sensei gives him. Horror, and sadness. "Yusuke," his master, the man who has raised him for thirteen years says, "How could you?"

Whatever thoughts Yusuke held in his mind, wink out. His mouth blurts nonsense. "Huh?”

"Madarame-san discovered the discrepancies," Principal Oryu states. "The pieces you've submitted to your classes. They are lifted directly from Madarame's personal studio. Some, from the very exhibit he's presently running."

Yusuke looks back and forth between the two men. "I don't understand." Then, he says it again. "I don't understand."

Madarame extends a single hand, and pats the air, as if trying to calm him down. "Yusuke, my boy, it's over. We know everything."

"I do not know what you hoped to accomplish," Oryu continues. "By passing Madarame-san's art off as your own. It is, disappointing." He shrugs. "But, we have no other choice. For such a gross violation of the academic policy, Yusuke Kitagawa, you are to be expelled from Kosei High School."

The words are like an electric shock. His brain kicks back online and he starts to shout, his voice high and weak. "No, wait! Please, there must be some mistake. I would never pass someone else's work off as my own, especially not Sensei's!" He looks to Madarame. "Please, you know me, Sensei. You know I wouldn't do this. I couldn't. This is wrong. Tell him, please."

"Yusuke," Madarame says. "Please, just stop."

"Stop _what?_ " Yusuke demands. "I haven't done anything wrong. Please!"

Principal Oryu raises a hand, palm out. "That's enough, Kitagawa. This is a shameful display. Try to control yourself."

Yusuke looks back at him, and stands. "But you're accusing me of something I haven't done!" He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "This is clearly a mistake." He nods and forces a calm smile onto his face. "Sensei, they must've seen what I assisted you with for the exhibit. Tell them, I was involved with the creation of those pieces, and that I did so at your whim. That must be what this is all about. You know I'd never do something as reprehensible as cheat or pass another's work off as my own. It has to be that. Tell them how I helped you paint those pieces for the show."

And Madarame stares up at Yusuke, his eyes wide, and, replies, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

And Yusuke's heart breaks. "What do you mean?" He asks, his voice quiet and small. "I've helped you for years. Not just for this show. You've... you've..." He can't continue. The words will not come. The accusation is one he cannot make, even as it is leveled against him.

 _This isn't real. This isn't happening_.

Oryu sighs. "I was hoping we could keep this civil, and not have you hurl such vile charges at the man who raised you. I suppose I should've expected as much, from a plagiarizer." The word is spoken with such malice, that Yusuke has to sit back down. Oryu folds his hands over each other. "The official process of expulsion will begin on Monday. I will file the paperwork for processing. By this time, next week, you will be expelled from Kosei High."

 _This isn't real. This isn't happening_. Yusuke's mind drifts towards his options, but there's nothing. Without his scholarship, he has no money. Without Madarame, he has no place to live. Without his reputation, he will never be allowed to be an artist. The panic he feels triples. _Am I homeless? Did I just become homeless?_ Then, another thought cuts through the others.

 _I'm going to die_.

He will, too. There's no place left for him to go. He has no money. It's all over.

The others continue to speak, but he cannot hear them. He is falling somewhere. Somewhere deep and very far away.

#

Akira stares at his phone.

"What about...'circus?'" Ann asks.

He shrugs. "Put it on there."

Ryuji scribbles 'circus' across the page of the notebook. This was their last idea. A list of potential keywords for the Palace. Once they were done, their plan was to take it to the atelier, and repeat all of them until one hit.

It wasn't an elegant plan, but without any other leads, it was all they had.

"I still say we should investigate the storage unit," Morgana says.

Akira nods. "Yeah, I agree. But unless we've got Madarame's keycard, we can't get inside."

Ryuji looks up from the page. "Why do you think he's keeping a storage unit in Yusuke's mom's name?"

Ann frowns from where she sits on the couch. "Because he doesn't want anyone to know it's his, duh."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah, no shit. I know _that_. I'm asking, why name it after Yusuke's mom, and not... I dunno, some random dead person? Or someone who never existed?"

"Tribute?" Akira asks. "Who knows?" But the question does irk him. Why _would_ he do something like that?

"If he treated her the same he's treated his other apprentices, that's some pretty effed up tribute," Ryuji grumbles.

Ann's phone vibrates. Akira watches as she glances at it, and her eyes widen. "Whoa, you guys! I just got a text from Yusuke."

The two boys and cat straighten. After Takemi's decision to call the police, the Thieves had split. The whole situation, with Yusuke's fainting, had put a damper on the rest of the day, but they had agreed to meet up at LeBlanc and discuss potential Palace keywords the next day. Akira had gone home and helped Sojiro out around the cafe, his eyes frequently traveling to the door, wondering if Takemi would go back on her word, and the police wouldn't march inside at any moment.

Nothing had happened, but that hadn't stopped the worrying. He hadn’t heard from her. Part of him had wondered if he shouldn’t head down there, and see what was happening. But if the police _were_ there, he needed to be as far from them as he could be.

"What's he want?" Akira asks. "Is he okay?"

She frowns. "He wants to meet up."

#

Sojiro turns and holds out the plate, but when Akira reaches out to take it, he pulls it back, just a bit. "What's the deal with him?" He asks, and stabs his eyes upward. "The new one?"

"Yusuke?" Akira asks.

"If that's his name."

"He's a friend," he says. "And he's really hungry. I don't think he eats a lot."

Sojiro rolls his eyes. "I could see that. Kid looks like the offspring of a twig and an even thinner twig. He okay?"

A lot runs through his mind, so when he says, "He will once he's got some food in him," it comes out a lot harsher than he'd intended.

Sojiro's eyes narrow, but he hands the plate over, and says no more.

Akira takes the steps two at a time, careful not to spill anything, and finds the group arrayed about his room.

Yusuke, eyes dim and wandering, sits slumped on the couch. "This is quite spacious," he mumbles. Ann sits alongside him, a worried look on her face.

Ryuji leans against the railing, his arms crossed and foot tapping away. Morgana is perched on the bed, watching them all.

"Thanks," Akira says, as he sets the food on his table and drags it over for Yusuke. "Here. LeBlanc's special curry. Eat up."

Yusuke regards the food, and his face twists up. "Well, perhaps a bite or two would-"

"Screw that," Ryuji suddenly blurts. He marches over and slams both hands, splayed open on the table. "You'll eat _all of it_ , dude. Because you freakin' need it. Malnutrition is not a damn joke!"

No one says anything. They just stare at him, eyes wide. Eventually, Ann manages a, "Ryuji..." and Akira shakes his head and pulls up his desk chair to the table.

Yusuke picks up the fork and leans over the food. Life quakes back into his eyes as he inhales the curry's smell, and to say he dives into it would be an understatement.

After devouring about half the food, he leans back, and mutters, "I apologize for my inexplicable presence."

Akira chuckles and shrugs. "Don't know if I'd call it ‘inexplicable,’ but don't worry about that. What's going on?"

His lips part, but he doesn't say anything for a few moments. "It would appear I've been expelled."

Everyone has their mixed reactions of outrage. Ryuji asks, "Expelled? Like, _expelled_ , expelled?"

"Yes, that one," Yusuke says.

"Why?" Akira asks.

"How?" Ann asks.

Yusuke sighs. "I have been accused of plagiarism. Of stealing Sensei's work and passing it off as my own."

"For real?" Ryuji asks, shaking his head. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about? I thought Madarame was the piece of shit stealing from _you!_ "

Yusuke slams a fist onto the table. "How many times must I say this? It is _not_ plagiarism! Sensei requested my help on several pieces, and I did so because I was his apprentice. That is what an apprentice does!"

"Bullshit," Ryuji spits back. "An apprentice helps his Sensei with his work. He doesn't do all the work for the Sensei so that the Sensei can say it’s his own!"

"Ryuji's right," Ann says. "I'm pretty sure that's the actual definition of plagiarism."

"Look," Akira says, when he sees Yusuke's mouth open in further protest. "Just tell us what happened, okay? We dropped you off at the clinic yesterday. What’s next?"

Yusuke walks them through his day, in between forkfuls of food. It is a long, rambling story, with Akira requesting a course correction several times throughout. When he reaches the end, the others sit in silence.

Then, Akira stands. "I'll be right back."

The others watch him go, but no one moves to follow him. He descends the stairs, crosses through the empty cafe - beneath Sojiro's eye - and steps outside.

He pulls the burner from his pocket and dials Ohya.

"'ello?" She yawns into the phone.

"Were you sleeping or something?" Akira asks.

"Power napping. It's a thing. What'd you want?"

Akira sighs and says, "Yusuke Kitagawa got expelled from Kosei High today."

When Ohya speaks next, her voice is awake, calm, and authoritative. "Tell me everything."

Akira relates Yusuke’s story, and at the end, asks, "Could you come over and explain things to him?"

There's a brief silence. Then, "So, he got tipped off, huh? Must've been the police. Damn. The Yakuza _and_ the police? How many people does this creep know?"

"Hello?" Akira asks.

"Hm? Oh, no, sorry. I can't come over now. I'm busy."

"I thought you said you were napping."

"The nap was a prelude to work. Madarame isn't my only story."

"But you can use this, right? Madarame clearly got Yusuke expelled because he thought his little scam was in a danger."

"Honestly? It's a he-said, he-said, Akira. And Madarame has a lot more oomph behind his he-said. If Yusuke goes public with accusations against Madarame, everyone will see him as just another pissed off teenager raging against the kind-hearted man who took him in and cared for him."

Akira opens his mouth to protest, but then realizes he doesn't have one in him. "Yeah. You're right. Shit."

"Sorry, Akira. That's how the world works. We're going to need another angle to get to Madarame."

"I know," Akira says.

He returns upstairs and tells everyone about his conversation.

"For real?" Ryuji asks, eyes wide. "She's not going to do anything? I thought she was gonna blow this whole story wide open!"

"But she's got a point," Akira says. "No one will believe Yusuke."

"But it's the truth!" Ryuji shouts.

Akira grinds his teeth together before he snaps, "And you should know by now that that doesn't matter. The _truth_ is all about perception. Even if we gave facts, even if we had proof, people are just going to see Madarame as a beloved saint, and Yusuke as a bitter former apprentice."

Yusuke stares at the ground, his hands clasped together. "I... don't know what to do."

Ann lays a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to figure this out, Yusuke. We're going to help you."

Ryuji throws his hands in the air. "Great, so it's back to the drawing board. And Madarame gets to keep churning out paintings and kids like they're on some kind of damn conveyor belt!"

Akira's eyes widen. The wheels in his head begin to spin. "Dude," he says, and looks up at Ryuji. "That's _it_."

"Huh?" Ryuji asks.

"What'd you mean?" Morgana meows, from where he sits on the bed.

"C'mon," Akira says, and stands. "We've got to go."

"Where?" Ann asks, looking nonplussed.

"The atelier," he replies.

Yusuke stiffens. "Why? I do not think a confrontation with Madarame is something I can handle right now, and-"

"Actually," Akira says. "You should stay here. It's fine. Just… don't make a lot of noise, and rest." The shadow of another plan forms in his mind. He stands still, and stares straight ahead.

 _Think. Think it through_.

He fights to keep a smile from his face. "Yeah, you should definitely stay here. It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Yusuke asks, and stands. "Just what is it you intend to do?"

Akira ignores this and looks over at Ryuji. "I think I just figured it out."

The boy's eyes widen. "The keyword?"

"Seriously?" Morgana asks, hopping down from the bed.

"Wait, wait," Ann says, patting the air with her hands. "You want to go right now?"

"Why not?" Akira asks, turning to her. "It's not too late."

"I demand to know what you're all talking about," Yusuke states. "It very clearly concerns me and Madarame-sensei. If you are going to the atelier, I will accompany you."

Akira shakes his head. "Yusuke, it's fine. Just relax and-"

"I will accompany you!" Yusuke shouts, and stamps his foot on the floorboards.

Akira runs his hand through his hair and makes a show of thinking about it. "Well, okay."

Ryuji breaks into a grin.

Ann's eyes narrow.

#

They arrive at the atelier with the moon high in the sky. It is a dark night, but hot. Everyone chatters as they approach, but Akira has kept quiet for most of the trip, running through his plan in his head. He's sure he hasn't made a mistake.

When they stop outside the building, he turns to them. "Ready?"

Yusuke stares at the atelier, and says, "What is about to happen, Akira?"

Akira puts a hand on his shoulder. "Something really, _really_ weird. You don't have to be here, Yusuke. You can go back to LeBlanc."

He shakes his head. "No. I will stay."

"Alright," Akira says. "But if you do, you have to promise that you won't say anything about this to anyone. We're trusting you, yeah?"

Yusuke frowns, and Ann takes a step forward. "Hey, Akira, wait a second. Let's-"

"Very well," Yusuke says. "Provided we are not about to murder Madarame-sensei, my lips are sealed. I choose to trust you."

Akira smiles. A smile he hasn't worn for some time. "Great. Thank you." He turns to the others, and pulls out his phone. "We were thinking about it all wrong. We thought of Madarame as an artist. And we figured the Palace would reflect that. But, Madarame _isn't_ an artist." He nods to Ryuji. "It's like you said, man. He churns out kids like they're on a conveyor belt. Mass production. Inventory." The others just stare. Akira opens the Nav, and dials into Madarame's Palace.

His grin grows. "Factory."

"Match Found."

The world shifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Madarame sure is a swell guy, isn't he?
> 
> A few of you guessed the Palace's keyword, and a few of you were 99.5% of the way there. But, we'll just have to wait until Monday to see the inside. ;)
> 
> Sorry about the late post, I was feeling a bit under the weather thanks to the bad weather I weathered yesterday in Jersey. Snow, man. That shit's no joke.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and have a great weekend!
> 
> UPDATE: FF.net is giving me a hard time about posting the latest chapter. I've got to get to work, so I don't have time to resolve it. I'll try and get it taken care of sometime this evening. If you swung by here after checking FF.net, never fear, I'll get to the bottom of it. Thanks!


	46. The Muse Strikes

Yusuke runs.

He runs from the twisted thing of metal and stone that spits black smoke into a crimson sky.

He runs from Akira and the others, even as they shout his name. Even as their clothes burst into blue flame.

He runs from the talking cat.

He runs from it all.

He runs until he is all alone.

Yusuke sits on the ground, his back against an alley's wall, hands clamped over his skull. "Wake up," he whispers. "Wake up. Wake up. _Wake up_."

He doesn't.

This Tokyo is a ghost town. As he'd fled, he'd seen no one, and yet he'd recognized landmarks. Buildings and the like. It was all the same. Save for the lack of people. And that horrid factory that had materialized before them as the world spun. And that awful red and angry sky.

He stares at the ground. The alley is covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust. He focuses on the little grains, trying to bring himself back to some kind of reality.

A reality that makes sense.

Only, reality makes no sense.

Plagiarism. Expulsion.

And now he was here, in this alley, staring at grains of dust and dirt, trying to figure out what to do.

_Perhaps I've gone mad_. He'd once read somewhere, that, 'It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.'

He had always liked that witticism.

He stands. Inches his way to the alley's mouth. Peers around the corner.

There.

In the distance, beyond the rooftops he knows so well, juts the gray facade of the factory, with its smokestacks and windows, bleeding dirty light out into this shell of Tokyo.

He swallows.

Just what _is_ that?

He'd heard the others throw around words. 'Palace' and 'Metaverse' and 'Treasure.'

They'd meant nothing to him.

But.

He cannot keep running through this vacant landscape.

If this is a nightmare, perhaps that factory holds the key to waking up.

If this is not a nightmare, perhaps he can still find some way out through it.

It takes him a few long moments to move. Then, he takes a deep breath, steps back out into the road, and heads for the factory.

#

In hindsight, bringing Yusuke into the Metaverse hadn't been Joker's best idea.

Who knew someone so malnourished could run so far and fast?

He stands on the lip of a building and peers down into the street below.

Skull groans alongside him. "This sucks! Where the hell did he go?"

Panther, across the roof, searches for him in the other direction. "Do you see him?" She calls, looking back at them.

Joker shakes his head. "Nope. Couldn't have gone far, though." He darts a glance at the cat. "Hey, Mona. Exactly how far does this version of Tokyo go?"

"Uh," Mona replies. "Well, technically, what we're seeing is how Madarame interprets his atelier in the context of the larger city. So, um, forever."

"For real?" Skull shouts, throwing his hands into the air. "We have to search all of _this_ Tokyo for him? Are you freakin' kidding me?"

Joker throws back his head and laughs. "Wait, so, the whole world is just out there? But totally absent people?"

"Kind of. I think so. It differs from distorted heart to distorted heart. But it looks like Madarame views Tokyo relatively normally, as opposed to his Palace."

Joker's laugh lowers to a chuckle. "Man, these rules just get better and better."

Panther walks over to them. "So, how're we going to find him? We can't search all of Tokyo."

Joker adjusts his gloves. He's missed them. "Well, Yusuke isn't stupid. And he's not crazy. He'll probably eventually figure out that, to get out, he's got to either head back towards the Palace or find us." He turns to regard the Palace. It is a monstrous thing, eclipsing the small residential neighborhood that surrounds it. "And that is hard to miss. I say we head back and wait for him."

"But, who knows how long that will take?" Panther asks.

Joker spreads his hands in a shrug. "Well, it's either that, or we split up - with no way to communicate with each other - and try to find him. There's four of us, one of him, and an entire city where he could be hiding. How long would _that_ take?"

Panther frowns, but doesn't reply.

Skull looks down at Mona. "You sure you can't, I dunno, turn into an airplane or something?"

Mona shakes his head. "I've told you before, it's all about cognition. If the public doesn't already have a preconceived notion of cats turning into airplanes, then I-"

"Okay, okay!" Skull shouts, clamping his hands over his ears. "Forget I asked!"

Joker passes his eyes over the empty cityscape of Tokyo. It is uncomfortably quiet.

"What's it like inside the buildings?" He asks.

"Huh?" Mona replies.

"All these buildings," Joker says. "All these empty homes and offices. What are they like, inside?"

"There wouldn't be anything inside," Mona says. "This is Madarame's cognition. If he's never seen what the inside of the building looks likes, it won't have anything in it."

"But, if he _has_ been inside a building, it would be similar to the real world, right? Since the atelier is his Palace and all?"

Mona shrugs. "I guess."

Joker smiles. "Interesting."

"Can we focus, please?" Panther asks. "We need to find Yusuke!"

"Right," Joker replies. "Right." He nods towards the Palace. "Let's get going."

#

Yusuke stands before the factory's maw. A break in the chain-link fence that surrounds it is capped with a large sign that reads, 'Madarame Productions, Corp.'

He feels something churn inside him, and a sharp spike of pain lances through his skull. He gasps, and brings his hands to his temples, but before he can think, he hears a voice.

"You!" It is loud and gruff. "Why aren't you at your station?"

Yusuke blinks and looks up into the face of a monster. From behind a blue mask, red eyes burn like coal. Inky, rippling black floats around them, bulging and pulsing into an exaggerated humanoid figure. It is dressed in a hideous beige jumpsuit, and a cap of the same make is pulled low across its head.

"I-" Yusuke manages.

"Don't talk back!" The thing shouts. It reaches out with an overlong arm, grabs Yusuke by the shoulder, and hauls him towards the entrance. "Be grateful you even have this opportunity!"

"St-stop!" Yusuke shouts. "Please, I don't understand!"

"You don't need to," the thing replies, and then they are through the factory's doors.

#

The Phantom Thieves arrive in time to see the shadow drag a barely struggling Yusuke into the factory.

"Well, shit," Joker says, frowning. He draws the knife from his belt. "Let's get in there."

#

Beyond a simple lobby where a receptionist thing, of the same black material as his captor, cleaned its nails, is a massive floor almost beautiful in its horror.

Yusuke's eyes travel upwards and beyond numerous, crisscrossing conveyor belts rising to the ceiling, like some bestial spider's web. On the floor, forklifts zoom and zip by, carrying pallets with nothing on them. More black figures stomp their way past, their movements almost mechanical, as if on a set track. The air is heavy with the smell of paint, smoke, and rubber. Between everything, there are numerous large wooden boxes with the words 'Madarame Productions, Corp.' spray-painted in black characters.

There are also children.

They line the conveyor belts, their feet either upon the concrete floor, or - for those above - on raised platforms of puke green metal.

They are copies of one another. Or, rather, each large section of conveyor belt has copies of the same children. Yusuke is dragged past one area, where a little boy in long, greasy hair stands, surrounded by twelve others that look identical to him.

His hands dart across the conveyor belt, slipping and sliding and brushing and stabbing.

And Yusuke sees that the boys do not have hands. Where their hands should be, are sharp stumps, covered in a rainbow of paint. The stumps are brought to a point, and as they dart their way along, Yusuke sees that each iteration is working on a multitude of paintings. It is the same painting, depicting a broken landscape of burning buildings. The same painting, over and over again, each copy of the boy adding its individual stroke to the piece.

"What in the name of-" He starts, but then another monster bursts from a black pool before them. It is identical to the thing that pushes him along. "What're you doing?" This new one asks.

"I've got a Kitagawa 2.0 unit," Yusuke's captor says. "I'm taking it to its station."

"Didn't you get the memo?" It turns to regard Yusuke. "They've been decommissioned."

"Yeah?" The one who holds his shoulder looks down at him. "Seems pretty capable to me."

The second shrugs. "It ain't up to us. This comes down from the Manager, himself."

"Alright, I'll put it in for processing."

The second monster marches off, and the thing holding Yusuke changes their course. "What's going on?" Yusuke asks.

"Quiet," it spits. They pass a new section of conveyor belts, and Yusuke sees they are unmanned. There are, however, a slew of paintings on the belt themselves, as if they had only just been being worked on. His eyes go wide when he sees them. They are all the present work Sensei had asked him to complete.

"Let me go!" He yells, and tries to break the monster's grip. "Tell me what's happening!"

The thing leans down into his voice and shouts, "I told you to, 'shut up!'" They approach a door that reads, 'Outbound Processing,' and the monster yanks it open.

Yusuke can see nothing beyond but a long, stretching darkness, and the vague impression of figures standing within it. "No!" He screams, once more.

It is too late. The thing shoves him inside, and slams the door shut behind him.

#

The awkward little doll-like shadow quivers on the ground. Joker levels his gun. "Where's Yusuke?"

"Wh-who?" It asks, and turns its bead-eyes to the others. "I don't know who that is!"

"Don't play dumb!" Skull shouts, and pumps his shotgun again. "We saw one of you bastards drag him in here."

"Yusuke Kitagawa," Panther growls. "We won't ask again."

"Kitagawa?" It asks. "You mean, the Kitagawa 2.0 units? They've been decommissioned. It was in the _memo!_ ”

"Memo?" Mona asks, and loosens his hold on the slingshot just a bit. "What memo?"

"It came earlier today," the shadow replies. "A general notice to all employees. The Kitagawa 2.0 units needed to be decommissioned, and pronto! I thought it had already been done!"

Joker scowls. "What'd you mean by, 'units?'”

"Huh?" The thin line of its mouth hangs open in confusion.

He just shakes his head. They'd snuck in through one of the upper windows, after finding a fire escape around the back of the factory and discovering that the front entrance was positively packed with shadows.

He has to admit, this Palace has been a bit... disappointing, so far. Kamoshida's castle had been as narcissistic as the man himself. But all they've seen of Madarame's Factory, at least on this floor, was pretty straightforward. A couple of rooms with filing cabinets. A break area with a vending machine. Sure there were shadows, but nothing that suggested the extent of Madarame's distorted heart.

And that worried him.

"Where do you guys send your decommissioned units?" He asks.

"Where?" It repeats. Joker cocks his gun. "Downstairs! Downstairs in 'Outbound Processing.' It's on the main floor. You can't miss it!"

Joker nods, and pulls the trigger. The shadow bursts into ash, and collapses on the ground.

The others stare at him.

"What?"

"Nothin,'" Skull says, and clears his throat. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Same plan as before," Joker answers. "Find Yusuke. Now, we've got a direction."

"You know," Mona says, as he returns his slingshot to his pocket. "I can sense the Treasure, and it's further up. We may want to check that out, so long as we're here and-"

Panther interrupts. "We can't worry about the Treasure now! We have to save Yusuke!"

"Panther's right," Joker says, and nods at her. "Yusuke is our first priority. I won't turn my nose up at any intel about the Treasure, but we've got to find him before he gets 'decommissioned.'"

"Yeah," Skull says. "That really doesn't sound good."

#

When the furnace door opens, Yusuke's fears are confirmed. In the sudden light, he can finally make out the features of all the still figures around him.

They are all him. Two dozen Yusukes, all standing in a line, all staring ahead, and rather than hands, each has a sharp stump, covered in dried paint that, in the firelight, looks like blood.

Before he can even whisper, "No," the figures begin to march forward. Their steps are unhurried, and their faces are blank.

They walk.

They walk.

They walk.

And they begin to burn.

The first catches fire before it reaches the furnace. Yusuke watches as his hair lights up like a match, then his clothes, and then his skin. The figure collapsed, ablaze, but continues to drag itself further in.

The same happens to the second figure.

And the third.

And the fourth.

And it keeps happening.

One by one, Yusuke watches his doppelgangers stoically step to their deaths.

Every part of him that can think, rebels. Through the wave of horror, he denies. Makes himself believe he is asleep, safe in bed, and that everything - the meeting with the Principal, this awful place, the terrible sight before him - is nothing but a surreal dream. Perhaps he will try to capture it upon the canvas on the morrow.

Perhaps, when he wakes, he will go to Sensei, and share his concerns.

Perhaps Sensei will finally have conquered his creative block, and will no longer need Yusuke's services.

Perhaps he can finally unveil his own work to the world.

As the last version of himself burns away, Yusuke thinks that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

And then the furnace door shuts, and he is in darkness once more.

_You know what this is_.

The voice is his own, but different. Deeper, more wizened. Angrier.

It feels as if someone is pushing a thumb through the back of his skull.

_You cannot deny the truth to yourself._

He shuts his eyes and feels something shift inside him, and then there is a hand on his shoulder.

"Yusuke."

He jumps, and opens his eyes on the black. “Wha-? Who's there?" He demands.

"Yusuke, it's us," the voice whispers.

He squints. The fresh darkness makes it difficult to see, but he can see three distinct figures, and one smaller one, standing in the room with him. "Akira? Ann? Other one?"

He hears Ryuji groan. "Seriously?"

"That's not what we call ourselves here," he hears Akira say. "But yes, it's us. Are you okay?"

He shakes his head, even though he knows they probably can't see it. "I don't understand any of this."

The figure he thinks is Akira steps forward. "I think you do."

"We don't have time for this," Ann says. "We need to get him out of here."

Akira is silent for a long moment. Then he says, "You'll tell us what you saw later. Right now, we're getting you out of here."

He steps up to Yusuke, and takes his arm in hand. "Stay close."

The group moves to the door, and opens it back onto the factory floor. The sudden light blinds Yusuke, so he does not see who speaks.

But he recognizes the voice.

"Well, well, well," it says.

"Madarame," Ryuji growls.

Yusuke's eyes adjust. The five of them stand just outside the door marked 'Outbound Processing,' and are surrounded by those black monsters.

In their middle, stands Sensei.

Only, this is not a Sensei he recognizes. It is the same face. The same hair. But the eyes are bright gold, and the smile he wears is sinister.

Rather than his traditional robes, Madarame wears an expensive looking suit, dark blue, with a starched white shirt, powerfully red tie, and dark shoes polished to shine.

_He looks... like a businessman_.

Madarame chuckles. "I admit, I was annoyed to hear production levels had dropped off, but who could have guessed it would be for such an interesting reason?"

Yusuke steps away from Akira, who whispers a quick, "No, stay back!" and says, "Sensei, what _is_ all this?"

Madarame stares at him for a moment. It is one of the longest moments of Yusuke's life. Then he scowls, and says, "I thought I ordered all the Kitagawa 2.0 units decommissioned? I believe there was a _memo!_ "

One of the creatures nearest Madarame makes a sound like the clearing of a throat. "Apologies, sir. We'll finish the job right away." He marches towards Yusuke.

Then Ryuji jumps between them, and shouts, "Stay back, asshole," and brings what looks to be a pipe down on the monster's head. It collapses into a pile of ash at his feet.

Madarame's eyes narrow. "I know what this is. Sabotage! How dare you abscond with my property? I demand you turn over the unit this instance!"

"Unit?" Ann asks, and for the first time Yusuke notices she is wearing an enticing suit of red leather. Even he realizes this is an odd thing to notice, given the situation. "Wasn't he your apprentice? Didn't you raise him since he was a kid?"

The golden-eyed Madarame scoffs. "He's not the first. Won't be the last either. ‘Apprentice’ has always just been a pretty word we use to dress up, ‘laborer.’"

Yusuke feels Akira step up behind him. "This is how he views himself," he whispers. "And this is how he sees you. He's not an artist. And you're nothing to him."

Yusuke takes a pace forward. "Is this all true, Sensei? All these years you've asked me to help you? The creative blocks? Are they really all lies?" He smiles. "I won't believe that. You said it yourself. You took me in because of your fondness for my mother." At that, something flickers over Madarame's face, but it is gone in an instant. "I can't believe you would be so callous and unscrupulous in-"

"Oh, Yusuke, just _shut up,"_ Madarame groans. No one speaks. "Enough with the thesaurus _bullshit_. Do you think speaking like that makes you an artist? Do you think it means you're higher-minded than everyone else? Grow up. No one important is impressed, and anyone that is impressed is not important." He shakes his head. "Did you really thing you could make it in this business? Did you think your ideals and your pure thoughts or any of that other nonsense actually matters a damn? There's no such _thing_ as art, you moron. It's a business. It's all a business. And you cling to your outdated beliefs like they're a life preserver, but you don't realize that by having them, you've already gone under!"

He takes a step closer to Yusuke. "I kept you around because you were good at painting. You had a great work ethic, and a wonderful output. But all your babbling about artistic levels of consciousness and the muse and all the other drivel? It doesn't _mean_ anything. And because you don't get that, you were never going to make it." He smirks. "You should thank me for letting you be a part of it. Without me, you would never have had a chance."

Yusuke stares at him. "Thank you?"

Madarame waves him away. "Enough of this. Production has been delayed long enough. Kill them all."

"Thank you?" Yusuke asks.

The monsters burst and materialize into more, even stranger creatures.

"Shit," Ryuji shouts. "Yusuke, step back, man!"

"Carmen!" Comes Ann's voice, and a torrent of fire lashes out at the monsters.

Yusuke cannot take his eyes from Madarame, who moves away from the fray. "Thank you?"

Yusuke feels a hand grip his shoulder. It is Akira. "Dammit, Yusuke! Stand back!"

Yusuke yanks his shoulder from the boy's grip. "YOU WANT ME TO _THANK YOU_?" He screams.

_Pain_.

Needles slide their way through his skull, and pierce the gray matter of his brain. He collapses to his knees, screaming, gripping his head in his hands, trying to stop the blood that must be flowing out from escaping.

He feels a heat on his back. "Do not turn away."

Yusuke falls forward, and hits his head against the warm concrete floor. Through the awful pounding in his head, he can see a burning figure step around him. For a moment, he thinks it is one of the things from the furnace room, but this one is different. It is adorned in a cobalt halo of fire, and its eyes are golden, proud, and bore right into him.

With one smoldering hand, it points to where Madarame watches. "Do _not_ turn away. For too long you have excused his treatment, closed your eyes to his dereliction. Denied the truth that you know in your heart."

Yusuke tries to lift himself, but the pain is too great, and all he manages to do is drag his fingers across the floor. To his horror, thin red lines of blood trail in their wake.

"You know this man. You know what he is. So why give weight to his words? Tell me, should you toss aside your truth based on the withered excuses of a tired, spiteful old man?"

Yusuke stares up at himself, but cannot answer.

His shadow's eyes narrow. "Even now, you stop yourself from speaking the truth? The truth is like a painting. If it only exists in your mind, then it does not truly exist. You must put it upon the canvas, bleed it from your fingers, speak it so it may be known!" The shadow speaks faster now. "That man thinks his truth absolute. Show him he is wrong. Show the world he is wrong." It kneels down so it can face him. All around him, a bizarre battle rages. Yusuke can feel the electricity of it across his face. His shadow speaks. "But you cannot show them the truth if you do not speak it to yourself, first. So tell me, what is he? What is Madarame? What is your Sensei? What is your master? Your teacher? Your father? _What is he?_ "

And Yusuke spits out, through gritted teeth. "He's a fucking _fraud_."

His shadow smiles. "Very good."

He feels something wrap around his face. It is cool and tingles against him like long-dried plaster.

Word beat through his mind. "Let us seal the contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Let us dispense with falsehoods."

Yusuke grips the kitsune mask in his hands, and begins to rip it away.

"NOW GO FORTH AND PAINT THE JUSTICE OF YOUR TRUTH UPON THE CANVAS OF THE WORLD!"

Yusuke pulls the mask free with a scream, and feels himself erupt.

#

Joker feels the cold first.

Arsene has a shadow pinned with its dark tendrils, but more are moving in. They all have their hands full, and he cannot spare Yusuke a glance when he hears the scream.

Then, a wave of frost rushes over him and slams into the shadows. They halt their advance, and some topple over, shattering into shards.

He turns, and smiles. _Yes!_

Yusuke wears a high collared, puff-sleeved black jumpsuit. A fox tail hangs from a sash he wears around his waist. Opposed to his own bright red gloves, Yusuke's are a deep blue. He grips a sword housed in a red sheath.

Above him, stands his Persona.

It is a spectacle. An ukiyo-e come alive, painted face and all. Its blue robe flutters in a breeze, its pipe smokes from small, dainty hands. It grimaces over at Madarame.

Yusuke opens his eyes, and smiles. "I apologize, Sensei." He slowly raises his hands and looks at his outfit. "You are correct. I would be nowhere without you. You gave me direction, misguided though it was."

He steps forward, and his Persona follows. "And indeed, it is the duty of the apprentice to help his Sensei shine all the brighter." He wraps his hand around the sword’s hilt. "But you forget, it is also the apprentice’s duty to ultimately surpass the master." He draws the blade, and Joker feels the cold rush up anew. "So, Madarame-sensei. Allow me to properly _thank you._ "

Madarame scowls and glares at the shadows. "What're you all doing? I told you to kill them!"

Joker leaps back and lands alongside Yusuke. "Think you can handle this?" He asks.

Yusuke's smile never falters. "Abominations are fated to perish!"

Joker blinks. "Uh, okay."

The thieves close ranks. "Dude, this is freakin' awesome!" Skull shouts, staring up at the Persona.

"Who'd have thought you'd get a Persona too?" Panther whispers. Joker smiles.

"Let's celebrate later," Mona says. "We've got shadows to fight."

"Shadows?" Yusuke asks. "An appropriate name." He steps ahead of the group. "Allow me." The creatures grow closer, and he levels his blade at them. "Goemon, STRIKE!"

#

Yusuke looks over at him from the couch. "Are you certain it is alright that I stay here?"

Akira sighs. "It's fine, Yusuke. I already cleared it with Boss."

Yusuke nods and lays back down. "I must find a way to thank him. Perhaps a self-portrait."

"You want to paint a picture of Sojiro?" Akira asks.

"No, that would be silly," Yusuke replies. "I would paint a picture of myself, so that he could always put a face to the one thankful to him."

"Don't do that," Akira says. "That's so much worse."

The fight hadn't taken long. Goemon's ice abilities had shredded the shadows. Madarame had lost himself in the scuffle, and despite Yusuke's insistence on going after him, the exhaustion had set in, and they had carried him out.

What had followed was a discordant discussion of the Metaverse, the Palace, Madarame and their investigation, and their role as the Phantom Thieves.

Then, it had dawned on them that Yusuke hadn't a place to stay. Akira had managed to pull some strings with Sojiro, and here they were. They had so much more to talk about, but it would have to wait until later.

"The important thing," Morgana says, from where he lays on Akira's chest. "Is that you've got your own Persona now, Yusuke. That's going to be a huge help."

Akira nods. "It really is."

Morgana looks down at him. "It's a good thing you decided to take Yusuke into the Metaverse with us. We never would've gotten a new teammate if you hadn't!"

Akira smiles, but says nothing.

It isn't long before Yusuke and Morgana are asleep. Akira stares at the ceiling, and goes over the events of the day, trying to think if he could've done anything different.

Then, from his left, he hears a familiar voice, but only in his own mind. _So, tell me, son. Why_ did _you take Yusuke into the Metaverse?_

Akira just stares at the ceiling.

_It just seems that someone so concerned with security and secrecy, wouldn't be keen to let another person_ _in on the secret._

Akira mentally shakes his head. _Yusuke deserved to know the truth_.

The mental image of his father shrugs. _Sure, sure. But how is that your problem? C'mon, Akira. You can fool them. You can't fool me. I'm in your head, remember?_

Akira tries not to think anything. He fails.

His father smiles. _There you go, son. Honesty is the best policy, after all._

Akira shuts his eyes and tries to force himself asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this chapter makes your Mondays a bit more bearable!
> 
> I appreciate the recent comments I've been getting, and if I haven't answered you yet, I'll be sure to get to them soon.
> 
> And now, an aside. I've got a question for you people. I'm throwing around some ideas in my head for a new project. One that will NOT detract from Crimson, don't worry. I'm wondering if any of you wonderful people are familiar with visual novels. If you are, what are some of your favorites?


	47. Paid Visits

5/23

"So then, everyone was like, 'Oh no, what do we do?'"

"A dire situation, indeed."

"Right, but then I was like, 'Never fear! Mona's here!' And I leapt off the chandelier. Remember how I told you I snuck up to the chandelier?"

"Of course. A harrowing bit of exposition."

"Exactly. So, I'm up there, and I leap off, and BOOM, I knock the crown right off Kamoshida's head."

"I see."

"And then Kamoshida was like, 'No! No! My crown! My Treasure! Blargh! Blurg! Argh!' and Lady Ann was like, 'You're a hero, Mona!' and I was like, 'Thanks, no big deal,' because I'm humble and all."

"Undoubtedly."

"And Akira said something cool, but I couldn't hear him because Ryuji was like, 'Blehblehbleh,' or something, so I missed it."

"That does sound like something he would say."

"Right? Then Lady Ann shot Kamoshida a bunch of times, and the Palace collapsed. And that was how we stopped Kamoshida."

Yusuke nods. "What a story, Morgana."

"Yeah, you can say that again."

The two cross the street. "Although, I'm a bit unclear as to why Ann chose to compliment your heroics so many times. I would think once would be enough."

Morgana bobs his head in his approximation of a shrug. "What can I say? I'm pretty great. Lady Ann's an exceptional... lady. She sees this greatness in me." His smile fades a bit. "But, uh, don't tell her I told you all this. It'd probably just embarrass her, you know?"

"Ah," Yusuke replies. "That makes sense. Do not worry, Morgana." His eyes sparkle. "I will not let this _cat_ out of the _bag_."

Morgana doesn't reply.

Yusuke stops walking and stares down at him. "Did you hear me, Morgana? I said I would not let the _cat_ out of the _bag_."

Morgana doesn't reply.

"Morgana? Do you understand? _Cat_ and _bag_ , yes?"

"I get it!" Morgana blurts out. "Are you done?"

Yusuke chuckles to himself, and nods. "Quite."

As it was Monday, and Akira needed to attend school, Morgana had been assigned the all-day task of bringing Yusuke 'up to speed,' on the Phantom Thieves, and their activities.

Yusuke, though not being fully expelled, had opted not to return to Kosei High. No doubt, the lie of his plagiarism had circulated among the staff - possibly even the students - and he did not think himself up to dealing with their ire.

He'd eaten breakfast alongside Akira at LeBlanc, again expressing his gratitude to Sojiro, who had shrugged - stoically - and shoveled more curry onto his plate.

Akira had advised Yusuke to 'take it easy,' but Yusuke had felt antsy before too long. His days had always been regimented. Wake. Practice. School. Practice. Sleep. Wake. Practice. School. Practice. Sleep. Food, occasionally.

That he now had _hours_ to kill made him uncomfortable.

Therefore, he'd insisted to Morgana that they take an extended stroll across town, while the cat explained everything to him.

And then the trip had become about something else.

"Hey, Yusuke?" Morgana asks. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

They turn a corner, and Yusuke sees the house up ahead. "Yes," he whispers.

The truth is, he doesn't know. He never thought he would have a reason to come back to this place.

But there it is. The tired old house. Two stories. Disgusting shutters. Splotchy paint job. He used to have such warm feelings for it. Now, it sickens him.

"I just don't think this is a good idea," Morgana says. "You only just found out about the Metaverse yesterday. Akira's right, you should take it easy."

Yusuke stops on the sidewalk just beyond the property's limits. "Please wait here, Morgana."

The cat sighs. "Sure."

Yusuke walks across the yard, and up to the window. He has no plan. No real idea of what he's doing here.

But then, through the dirty window, he sees a familiar face.

It is the boy he’d seen manning the conveyor belt. The boy crafting those terrifying and beautiful landscapes.

Another of Madarame's apprentices.

Something rises in him, and he marches to the front door, and lifts his fist with intention to knock, then stops. He lowers his hand.

Yusuke stands there for a long time.

Then, he turns around and walks back to Morgana. "Let's go."

Morgana keeps pace with him down the street. "I thought you were going to barge in there and tell him about Madarame."

"I nearly did."

"So, why didn't you?"

Yusuke shrugs. "You all told me about Madarame, and I didn't believe you. Why would that young man be any different? I only became convinced after entering the Metaverse." He looks back down the street, at the house. "And I will not subject that boy to such horrors. I won't make life more difficult for him. It will be more than hard, soon enough."

"What'd you mean?" Morgana asks.

Yusuke's hands curl into fists. "We will change Madarame's heart, and free this boy and all the others from his corruption. But what will we be freeing them into?" He sighs, shakes his head with a sigh, and unclenches his hands. "However, that is an issue for another day." He smiles down at Morgana. "Come. Tell me of this 'Mementos,' place."

"Well, that's a little complicated," the cat replies. "Have I told you that I can turn into a bus?"

"You most certainly have not."

#

"Come _on_." Ohya's voice bounces out of the burner's earpiece.

"No," Akira replies, as he scrolls through the latest onslaught of texts from Takemi on his regular phone. "I can't."

**_TAKEMI_ ** _: WHERE IS KITAGAWA? CALL ME._

**_TAKEMI_ ** _: NOW._

**_TAKEMI_ ** _: AS IN, NOW!_

"Oh please," Ohya mutters. "What could you be doing that's so important?"

"School just got out, I've got something going on," he tells her, as he types out his response to Takemi.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Can't talk. Will bring you up to speed later. Promise._

"I'm a student, remember? I can't go traipsing around town with you every day."

"Did you just say, 'traipsing?'" Ohya asks, her voice flat.

A few dots appear on Akira's phone, indicating Takemi's incoming response.

"So?" He asks. "That's a thing I say."

"That's a thing no one says," she replies.

**_TAKEMI_ ** _: Later!? No, you call me NOW._

Akira sighs.

"Am I boring you?" Ohya asks.

"No, no," Akira says, as he starts typing another response. _Multi-tasking is a pain in the ass_. "But look, I can't today, okay? I've got a study session I need to get to."

**_AKIRA_ ** _: I promise I will talk to you soon. But I can't right now. Please. Yusuke is safe. I promise._

"A study session. Seriously?"

"I'm a student," he blurts out. "I study."

Silence from Ohya.

No reply from Takemi.

Then, Ohya sighs.

And dots appear on his phone.

"Fine," Ohya says, and she hangs up on him.

**_TAKEMI_** _: Fine_.

Akira exhales, slides both devices back into his pocket, and leans his head against the stone of the alleyway. _This is getting insane. I need an assistant or something_.

He chuckles as he turns his gaze back towards to Shujin, and straightens when he spots Ryuji and Ann cutting across the street towards him.

The former raises a hand in greeting, and when he's close enough, whispers, "So, we all set?"

Akira nods. "Let's go grab Yusuke and Mona, and get going."

#

Most people think stuttering is the telltale sign of a liar. In Ohya's experience, someone's lying when their vocabulary inexplicably diversifies.

_'Traipsing,' my ass_.

You can't be stagnant in her industry. You must always be moving. Always thinking ahead. If your plan doesn't pan out, have a backup.

Madarame isn't the only story Ohya's following.

She stares down at her phone, and the mirrored history of Akira's GPS.

"Should be right here," she mutters to herself, and looks up to smile at the sign, 'Takemi Medical Clinic.'

_Let's see why you spend so much time with, 'The Plague,' Akira_. She jogs up the steps, and has only a moment to wonder at the odd vibration coming from inside, before she opens the door and fast, brutal music assaults her.

"Ah! Fuck!" She screams, and claps her hands over her ears. It's a cross between punk and _something_ , but she can't focus and determine what.

Then the sound cuts, and over the ringing din in her ears, comes a frustrated voice. "Sorry about that."

Ohya blinks and looks around. The waiting area is what she expected. Humdrum nothingness. Very nondescript.

The doctor is not.

Tae Takemi sits behind her desk, looking very annoyed, and that annoyance gives her an edge of sexiness accentuated by the _ridiculous_ heels and dress she's somehow pulling off beneath a white lab coat.

Ohya finds herself rattled, and Ohya does not like being rattled.

"Can I help you?" Takemi asks. The woman stares down at her phone as if it has wronged her somehow, then tosses it - clattering - across the desk, and stands, finally regarding Ohya.

She sticks a finger in one of her ears, and makes a show of it, before saying, "Some waiting room music."

The doctor just blinks, slow and bored. "Mmmhmm."

Ohya forces herself back to composed, and adopts the look of someone the right kind of nervous. "So, uh, I've been getting these headaches, lately." She taps her skull with few of her knuckles. "And they're not going away."

Takemi nods, snatches a clipboard off her desk, and hands it out to her. "Fill this out."

Ohya takes it, and reads the form attached to it. Boilerplate medical information. She takes a pen from the barrier and scribbles a bunch of nonsense down, and hands it back.

Takemi glances down at it, face inscrutable, and nods towards the door marked 'Exam Rooms.' "Head through, I'll meet you over there."

A few moments later, and Ohya sits on the crinkly paper of an exam table, and Takemi stands alongside her, the clipboard held in a lazy hand, her bangs drooping down into her face.

"When did these headaches start?" She asks.

"They've been going on for a while now," Ohya replies. "A couple of weeks. Since early April, I think."

Takemi nods along. "Have you changed your diet recently?"

Ohya shakes her head. "No."

"Do you use drugs or alcohol?"

"No drugs," Ohya replies. "But I have the occasional drink."

"How occasional is occasional?"

"Few drinks a weeks. Never more than one or two, per day."

Takemi hesitates for a moment, before she nods and jots something down on the board. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Does anyone?" Ohya retorts.

Takemi shrugs. "I'll take that as a no. How many hours, would you say you get per night?"

"It's not like I don't sleep," Ohya says. "Anywhere between four and six."

Takemi glances at her. "You do know humans are supposed to get seven to eight hours of sleep per night?"

Ohya shrugs. "I'm in a high pressure job. I can't just sleep when I want."

"Then you should consider finding a less stressful job, with more consistent hours."

Ohya smirks. "Says the doctor."

Takemi sighs and sets the clipboard down, and retrieves an ophthalmoscope from a drawer. "Stare straight ahead," she says, and shines a light into her eyes. It hovers there for a moment, and then she lowers it. She doesn't step away, however. Takemi hovers there, just before Ohya's face. She feels the doctor's eyes traveling over her skin. It's a strange feeling, and makes her more self-conscious than she’s felt in a long time.

Then, Takemi steps away, and reaches out her hands. "Could you take my hands, please?"

Ohya blinks. "What for?"

"Please. Just do it."

Ohya reaches out and wraps Takemi's hands in her own.

"Now, squeeze." Ohya does so. "Thank you."

Ohya lets her hands drop.

Takemi takes up the clipboard once more, writes a few more things on it, and says, "I'll be right back. Wait here."

Once she's gone, Ohya lets herself recoup. _Okay. So, the rumor is that she sells barely legal prescriptions. If I can get my hands on one, I can probably pivot that around to find out just what her connection with Akira is. The kid's a healthy seventeen year old. He wouldn't go to a doctor's office as often as he does unless it was for a very specific reason. And there are plenty of other clinics in the area too. So-_

But then Takemi returns, and Ohya pretends she hasn't been thinking anything at all.

The doctor's face is grim, and without saying anything else, she holds out a single card to Ohya. "Here. I think you should take this."

"Eh?" Ohya asks, and takes it up. Her eyes widen when she sees what it says. "What the hell is this?"

Takemi sticks her hands in the coat's pockets, and shrugs. "Based on what you told me, I don't think your headaches are due to stress. I'm willing to bet they stem from alcoholism."

Ohya jumps off the table, the paper ruffling as she does so. "So you give me the card for a Substance Abuse Center?"

Takemi nods. "Your eyes are bloodshot. There are burst blood vessels around your sockets and nose. And when you held my hands, I detected a slight tremor in them. Those are all symptoms of alcohol abuse.” She jabs her eyes towards the car. “I actually know one of the doctors that works there. We went to med school together. I could give him a call, if you'd like."

"No! No, no, no!" Ohya says, and with each word, her voice raises an octave. "Where the _hell_ do you get off, giving me a bullshit diagnosis like that?"

Doctor Tae Takemi doesn't as much as blink. She just stares at her, looking sympathetic, looking _worried_. "Given your lack of healthy sleeping habits, the amount of alcohol you consume is likely having a more detrimental influence over your body than for a normal person your age. I would suggest you check this place out sooner rather than later."

Ohya throws back her head and laughs too loud. "Yeah, right! Like I'd accept medical advice from 'The Plague!'" The words rush from her before she can even think them through.

Takemi tilts her head in surprise, and then sighs. Ohya has never heard a more infuriating exhalation of breath. "If you know who I am, why'd you come to me?"

Ohya bites her tongue. She's said too much. _Shit!_ There's no real way to salvage this situation. "Just, get out of my way!" She growls, and marches past her and out into the hall.

Takemi follows her at a leisurely pace. "Feel free to come back," Takemi says, and Ohya glances back to see her lift the clipboard. "Maybe next time you’ll feel comfortable about using your real information."

Ohya briefly considers knocking over the dead dracaena she sees in the waiting room, but just scowls and stomps her way out.

_Goddamn Akira, going to stupid doctors making stupid assumptions about me. Alcoholism? Please! I'd like to see that bitch try and handle all the bullshit I've got going on and_ not _need a drink afterwards_.

It isn't until she's down the block that she remembers she's still holding the card for the Substance Abuse Center.

#

Joker, hands on his knees, pants.

"Look out!" Mona shouts, and he looks up.

The claw descends, and it is only at the last second he manages to leap away, before it punches a hole through the floor.

The Shift Manager Shadow, eyes swiveling on their stalks, hisses, "You're adversely affecting production output," and scurries to pursue him.

It'd look comical if it wasn't doing such a good job of almost killing him. A giant, crab-like beast with a maw dripping acid, and oversized claws snapping and stabbing, but with a boring yellow tie swooped around its neck like a noose, and khakis over each one of its six legs.

Skull runs out ahead of him and summons the Captain, who lances the thing with electricity. The shadow screams, but its oily eyes just narrow, and swings again.

"Crap!" Skull shouts, and the broad side of the claw crashes into his chest, and he is flung to the side like so much paper.

Joker glances back at the others.

Panther and Mona stand guard over a prone Fox, who lays on his side, breathing in ragged gasps.

Joker curses himself again for not realizing it. The Metaverse heightened your strength, speed, endurance, and stamina, but it didn't make you invincible.

Sure, Fox was stronger than he was in the real world. But in the real world, Fox was a malnourished, underweight art student who had never felt the need for physical exertion.

With each minor battle, Fox had grown more and more exhausted.

When the Shift Manager had ambushed them on one of the factory's upper floors, a single strike had been all it took to take him out of commission.

Joker turns back to the Shadow. "Arsene!" He calls, and his Persona erupts behind him, pumps its wings, and the black tendrils dart down towards his target. They glance off the thing's shell, without so much as denting it.

He grits his teeth, pulls out his gun, and fires a round of bullets into its hide.

Skull stumbles up alongside him. "Dude, this thing is _way_ too strong!"

The bullets ricochet off the Shift Manager, and it grinds its feet into the ground, ready to strike.

"Dammit," Joker spits. "Genbu!"

The turtle-thing with the dragonhead tail materializes, and hisses at the shadow.

"Bufu!"

Ice catches along the Shift Manager's legs, just as it's about to launch itself forward. They snap, and the creature stumbles to its belly, with a groan. Joker draws his knife and charges forward. "Everyone, come on!"

It seems to take forever, but eventually, the Shadow bursts into ash, and the Phantom Thieves collectively collapse into a pile.

"That one..." Skull says, beneath gasps. "Was freaking... _tough!_ "

Joker turns to regard Fox. He's conscious, and sitting up, with his back against the wall further down the hall. "We need to leave," he says, and pushes himself to his feet. He walks up to Fox and offers a hand. "You okay?"

"Please, forgive my constitution," Fox mutters, before taking it.

"Don't worry about it," Joker replies, and hauls him up. Panther slides up next to them and takes one of Fox's arms and slides it over her shoulder. "Come on, we'll get you out of here."

"I don't know what became of me. One moment I felt find, and the next I could barely stand."

"You're weak, dude," Skull says, from where he lays.

"Don't be a dick," Panther shouts at him.

"There's no shame in it!" Skull retorts, and rolls onto his stomach. "He's not used to this much exercise."

"I fear you may be right," Fox replies. "Perhaps, until I've the same level of strength, I should play a more supportive role. Goemon's abilities didn't tire me as much as the physical swinging of my sword did."

Joker nods, and the three of them begin hobbling back down the hall. "Sounds good."

"Also," Fox says. "I would like a gun."

The others all stare at him.

"What?" He asks. "All of you have guns. I want a gun."

Joker chuckles and nods. "Alright, fine. We'll get you a gun at Untouchable tomorrow, after school."

Fox flashes him a weak smile. "Superb."

Mona hits Skull with a healing spell, and the Phantom Thieves begin to pick their way back out of Madarame's Palace.

#

"How long?" Sojiro asks, from behind the bar.

Akira looks up from his plate, mouth full of food, mind returning from a million miles away. "Hmm?"

Yusuke is in LeBlanc's bathroom, washing his hands. Sojiro nods towards the shut door. "Bringing home a stray cat is one thing, but a kid?"

Akira manages to keep himself from groaning, and his face impassive. "His dorm should be ready soon. It won't be more than another few days." _Provided we can steal Madarame's Treasure, get him to confess, and nullify his expulsion._

Sojiro's frown somehow deepens. "Yeah, well, if it's any longer than that, he better start cooking and cleaning around here."

The door opens and Yusuke steps out, patting his hands dry on his shirt. "What was that bizarre contraption besides the sink?" He asks.

Akira and Sojiro glance at each other. "Are you talking about the hand dryer?" Akira asks.

"Ah, so that's what it was. It looked rather unseemly. It indicated I was to put my hands inside it, but I certainly didn't trust it."

Sojiro shakes his head, and heads into the kitchen nook, grumbling beneath his breath.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira's bag as Yusuke sits down. "Boss is getting suspicious. We can't take much longer to find the Treasure and get Yusuke into those dorms."

Yusuke blinks. "If my presence here is causing you stress, I can certainly relocate and-"

"Forget it," Akira cuts him off. "You're not sleeping on the street or in some shelter. You're staying here." He looks over at Sojiro's back. "We'll figure it out. And we'll steal Madarame's Treasure before it becomes an issue."

Yususke smiles and nods, but his face quickly falls again. "But I'm afraid I don't think I'll be much use in the Metaverse. Given my poor performance today."

Akira shakes his head. "We'll get you a gun."

Morganan nods. "Yeah, and Goemon's really powerful! Stick with him, build up your strength, and you'll be okay."

Akira says something in agreement, but his mind is already working on the problem. Even getting Yusuke a gun, and keeping him in reserve won't make much of a difference. The other Phantom Thieves hadn't fared any better against the Shift Manager. They had a very short window to steal the Treasure, and if the Shadows in Madarame's Palace kept getting stronger, they wouldn't have time to build their strength to the point where they could be on equal footing.

_Which means, there's only one thing I can do_.

Akira hunches back over his meal, and shovels more food into his mouth.

#

"Trickster," Igor says, when Akira wraps his hands around the cell door's bars. "It has been too long."

"Not long enough," Akira whispers, and something shudders in the dark behind Igor.

Caroline.

The attendants remain silent.

Pricks of light materialize around Igor's misshapen head, and resolve themselves into what looks like cards. They hover and spin around the Warden, and his smile deepens. "You seem to have gathered more confederates to your cause. That is good to see."

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but Igor cuts him off. "It bears a mention, however, that those you interact with are themselves possessed of their own will and ambitions, and do not exist as mere automatons for your rehabilitation."

Akira thinks on this, then says, "Huh?"

This is too much for Caroline.

"UNDERSTANDINGCOMESTOTHOSEWHOLISTENINMATE"

Each spitfire syllable is a nettle scraping against his brain. He shuts his eyes and waits for the pain to go away.

"I merely wish to point out the inevitable," Igor says, unperturbed. "That you, like a sun, possess a gravity into which others may stray and thereby, revolve. Do not think, however, of collision as an impossibility."

He thinks of Takemi and Yusuke.

He thinks of Ohya and Sojiro.

"I get it."

Justine's words trickle down from above, like a spider on a thread. "A human will is a difficult thing to dominate. The more you attach to yourself, the more chaotic things may become."

"Just what I need," Akira mutters. "More chaos."

Igor gestures to the cards, and they vanish. "I would not presume to know your mind, but I believe you've other intentions behind your visit, beyond this amiable chat."

Akira swallows and nods. "I did."

"DOESOURCOMPANYCAUSEYOUDISCOMFORTINMATE"

"Just yours, Caroline."

He does not know why he says this. It tumbles from him like poorly clutched clutter. His eyes widen.

There is silence in the Velvet Room.

Then.

"Heh."

Not Igor. The brief chuckle is soft and feminine. _Justine_.

"Hehehe," it grows.

And then, from Igor, "Hmmhmmhmmhmmhmm."

And then Caroline starts to laugh.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

Akira listens to all three things laugh at him, and though he forces a smile to his face, all he can think is, _This is so much worse_.

Eventually, the noise dies down.

"Perhaps," Justine says, from wherever she hides. "You are braver than we initially thought."

"ORJUSTASFOOLISHASWEBELIEVED"

"Come now," Igor says, waving his hand through the air. "Our time grows short. Tell us, Trickster, what is your true intention here?"

Akira takes a deep breath, and says, "I want to fuse Personas."

Igor's grin splits his face. "Excellent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all have a great weekend!
> 
> I really appreciate all the comments I received regarding what VNs to check out. My reading/to-play list just got a lot longer.
> 
> Next week, we'll be back at the M-W-F update schedule. Which means I've got some editing to do. ;)


	48. Plans and Stories

5/24

Akira expects certain things when he walks into Untouchable.

He expects seedy customers, hidden in aisles and behind the covers of violently themed magazines.

He expects the faint aroma of cigarette smoke, mixing with the smell of plastic and glue.

He expects the subdued music curling through the store.

He expects Iwai to be seated at the counter, cap pulled low, lollypop in mouth, eyes pretending to be lazy.

He does not expect - when he steps into the store this time, Yusuke in tow - the man to storm from the backroom, scowling, march around the counter, grab his arm, and haul him towards said backroom.

"I suppose I'll wait here," Yusuke calls after them.

They enter the small chamber, and he finds it stacked to the brim with clutter. Boxes of model guns, plastic wrapped appliances, tubes filled with airsoft bb's. He cannot see the walls.

Iwai slams the door shut behind them, and releases Akira's arm, only to jab him in the chest with a tobacco stained finger. "I don't know what you're doing, runnin' your mouth about this place, but here's another life lesson for you kid. _Don't_."

Akira resists the sudden urge to swat Iwai's finger away, and tries to keep his voice calm. "Whoa. What're you talking about?" He feels Morgana squirm inside his bag. "I haven't said anything to anyone about this place, or you." He doesn't add, _I'm not an idiot_ , though he thinks it.

Iwai's alight eyes bore into his own, and for far too long to be comfortable, he says nothing. Then, "Makoto and Haru. You know 'em?"

The names dunk his head in a bucket of ice water. His brain shuts off. "Wha?"

Iwai's grimace is something to behold. "Yes or no, Kurusu!" It is not a question.

Akira nods. "Yes, yes." He nods some more. "I work with Haru at my part-time job. And, uh, well... Makoto's more complicated."

"Enlighten me," Iwai says, slowly.

He wonders where to start. "Okay. She's, um, the student council president. And, she was my tutor for a while, but now that's not happening because of a whole bunch of other stuff, and-"

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Akira feels his eyes nearly pop from his head. "Huh? No! She's not my girlfriend. I don't have a girlfriend."

Iwai's eyes move towards the door, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Well, she's sayin' she's your girlfriend. She came in here the other day and was asking after your _shopping_ habits."

Akira knows the big, dumb smile he feels grow over his face is the last thing Iwai wants to see, but he can't help it. "Makoto said she was my girlfriend?" He mumbles.

"Knock that dumbass grin off your face before I smack it off, kid! What're you tellin' people?"

He fights the smile away and thinks. "Nothing. I swear. I haven't told anyone anything. But Makoto's stalking me. Or, she was stalking me..." He stops talking, looks up at Iwai, and seizes him by the shoulders. "Wait! This means she's _still_ stalking me! This is great!"

Iwai does not share his enthusiasm. "Kurusu, either take your hands off me, or prepare yourself for a life with no hands."

"Right," Akira says, snatching them away. "Sorry." His mind races. _If she's still investigating me, does that mean she didn't buy Ann's story?_ "What, exactly," he enunciates, "did you tell her?"

Iwai walks him through the interaction. "Then, the fluffy-haired girl, Haru, she bought the model and they both split," he says, by way of wrapping up. "So, what exactly is going on?"

"She's stalking me," Akira tells him. "She's got a book where she keeps a record of my comings and goings."

"That's... alarming," Iwai replies.

Akira shrugs. "She's seen me come in and out of this store. So, maybe she thought she could get information on me, out of you. But-"

"But luckily for you," Iwai cuts in. "I'm not an idiot."

Akira nods. Iwai had played things well. Makoto knew Akira visited Untouchable, but she didn't know anything about why he really came here. "Thanks. I'm sorry I caused you trouble."

Iwai's grimace softens. "Yeah, well, covering for your ass isn't part of our deal. Try to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I will," Akira says, nodding.

Iwai sighs. "So, what're you doing here?"

Akira remembers Yusuke, and the young man's request. "My friend, the one I came in with, needs a gun. And a burner."

Iwai doesn't say anything for a time. "You ever heard the saying, 'three people can keep a secret if two are dead?'"

"Are you going to kill me?" Akira asks, eyeing the confined space they presently inhabit.

"Not yet," Iwai growls. "You'll have to wait on the burner." He narrows his eyes. "Just what do you kids use those guns for, anyway?"

"I told you," Akira replies, straight-faced. "We're enthusiasts."

Iwai smiles. "Good boy."

Both men step from the office, and find Yusuke at the counter, an assault rifle flat in the crook of his elbow. A satisfied smile sits on his face. "Behold, I have that with which I shall slay shadows."

"What's he talking about?" Iwai asks, an edge to his voice.

Akira forces out a laugh. "It's nothing. He's an art student, so, you know, he's eccentric."

"Eccentric," Iwai says, and looks Yusuke up and down. "Right."

They don't spend much time in the store. Once finished, the Thieves step back out into the overcast day and head for the rendezvous point.

Morgana pops his head out of Akira's bag. "This is bad."

"Relax, Morgana," Akira replies.

"’Relax?’ Makoto's still investigating us. How am I supposed to relax?"

Yusuke taps his chin with a forefinger. "Makoto. I feel as if I've heard the name before."

Before Akira can reply, Morgana blurts, "She's the one who harassed Shiho in the hospital!"

"Ah," Yusuke replies, eyes widening. "Then she is our enemy? This is dire, indeed."

Akira knows he should keep his mouth shut and what he's thinking to himself. But instead, he babbles out, "She's not our enemy."

Yusuke looks confused.

Morgana's eyes narrow.

"Then," Yusuke says, his voice working slow, as if trying to puzzle it out for himself. "What is she?"

The words sound clichéd, but he doesn't know how else to phrase it. "It's complicated."

_Might as well tell him everything._ He pulls his phone out and checks the time. "Guess I’ll have to tell this fast," he sighs. "It started when I first transferred here, last month."

#

Joker inches the door open with his fingertips, and steals a glance inside. In the center of the room sits a large table, with black swivel chairs lining it in a neat procession. Near the end of the room, a large projector screen hangs from the ceiling, its beige blandness clashing with the brutal gold of the rest of the room.

A few items around the room catch his eye. Paperweights. Calculators. A few scattered piles of paper with gibberish scrawled across them.

A single shadow, this one in the typical attire of a salaryman, faded gray suit, sandy shirt, threadbare, plain blue tie, paces the length of the room.

"Looks like a board room," Joker whispers. Skull leans on his shoulder, trying to get a look. "And just one shadow."

Panther frowns, and glances down at Mona. "Any chance we can go around?"

"Screw that," Skull says. "There's only one of 'em. Let's just bust through!"

"Quiet, Bonehead," Mona hisses. Then, he shuts his eyes and says nothing for a moment. "The Treasure is further up. But I'm pretty sure through this room is the fastest way to it."

Fox, smiling, hefts his rifle. "Shall we commence?"

The others nod, some more reserved than others, and Joker throws the door open and darts towards the shadow's back.

It gasps when he leaps onto its shoulders, and Joker wraps his fingers around the mask and _pulls_.

When it rips free, Joker jumps clear, and watches as the thing convulses, bursts, and materializes into an elongated, paper-thin dog, eyes wide and hollow, teeth bared in a snarl.

"Prepare thyself!" Fox shouts, and takes a knee. He aims down his weapon, and opens fire with a burst, smooth and true.

The _clackclackclack_ echoes through the room as the bullets punch into the shadow's frame. It ripples, twists, and hisses, but doesn't go down.

Joker smiles, and when Fox lowers his weapon, he steps forward, out from the safety of the group.

The thing levels its gaze onto him, flutters through the air, and charges.

"White Rider!" Joker shouts, and his mask bursts away in a brief bit of flame, and over his head leaps a maggot white horse, its flank ornamented in withered, blinking eyes, and its rider, a cloaked grim reaper holding a golden bow.

The horse rears up, neighs, and the skeletal thing draws its string, and launches a single arrow straight into the monster's face. It pierces, and with a faint, wet cry, the shadow collapses to the ground, and vanishes into ash.

Skull pumps a fist into the air. "Hell yeah, dude!"

White Rider dissipates into the air, and Joker adjusts his gloves.

Panther stares at the spot his Persona had just stood. "Where'd you get all these new Personas, anyway?"

"I fused them," Joker replies, and sets about snatching up the paperweights and dropping them into his pocket.

"Yeah, but like, how?"

Joker shrugs. "It's complicated." Silence. When he looks up from his pilfering, he sees them all staring at him. He sighs and says, "I do it in my sleep."

Mona blinks. "In your sleep, as in it was easy, or in your sleep, as in you actually did it in your sleep?"

Joker blinks. "Both, actually."

Skull snaps his fingers. "Oh! You told me about this before. It's the guy with the nose, right?"

"Guy with the nose?" Fox asks.

"Igor," Joker says. "He's sort of this guy that shows up in my dreams sometimes. He's creepy as shit."

"Fascinating," Fox whispers.

"We should move on, guys," Joker says, and snatches another item off the table. "If you want a whole breakdown of it, we'll be here for hours. Honestly, I don't know if I understand it myself."

"Right," Mona says, and moves towards the door on the opposite side of the room. "Let's keep going. We should reach the Treasure today, if we can."

Fox taps Skull on the shoulder. "I would just like to point out, that eating before entering the Metaverse was quite the insightful advice."

"No shit, dude," Skull replies.

The Phantom Thieves dart out into the hall.

It isn't long until they're forced to halt once more.

Joker stares at, then tries the handles of the double-set doors blocking their way. The rumble a bit, but don't budge. "No good," he says, and turns to Mona. "You're sure this is the way?"

"Of course I'm sure," the cat says, stamping his paw. "The Treasure isn't much further. But it's definitely through that door."

"What's this?" Panther asks, peering down at a boxy device alongside the door.

Joker walks over to her. "Looks like a number pad. What's that slot on the side?"

"I know what that is!" Mona shouts, and jumps up and down. "I've seen it before."

"F'real?" Skull asks. "Where?"

Mona smirks. "Inside the storage facility. There was one for each unit."

Joker looks back down at it. "So, it's a card reader?" He runs his finger along the slot on the side. It seems capable of fitting a card. "That's not good." He turns to the group. "I don't suppose any of us have the card? Or the code?"

Skull visibly deflates, his arms dropping limb, and his head drooping forward. "You've gotta be freakin' kidding me! We need a card now? And a password?"

Panther plants her hands on her hips. "Can't we just blow up the door or something? I mean, we have Personas."

Mona shakes his head. "That won't work. We're inside Madarame's cognition, remember? We can't brute force something like this."

Panther frowns. "Then what're we supposed to do?"

Mona sighs. "We'd need the keycard. And the code."

Joker groans and leans forward until his mask rests against the wooden door. "It'd be nice if things were just the tiniest bit easy, for once."

Fox raises his hand, like a student in class. "Mona, you said you saw this same device at the storage facility. That would be the one in which Madarame keeps a unit in my mother's name, yes?"

Mona nods. "Yeah, that's right."

Fox crosses his arms, and rests his chin on his fist. "In all my years by Madarame's side, he never once mentioned this storage facility. I would not even know about it's existence if you hadn't told me of it."

Joker straightens. "Which means," he mutters, "if he found out you _did_ know about it, he might panic."

Skull smirks. "Oh, it looks my boy's formin' a plan!"

Panther sighs. "Nothing too complicated, please."

Joker ignores them, and thinks.

It's dependent on certain things. Certain material. Certain individuals. But if he can get it all together, they could pull it off. He nods. "Alright. I think-"

"Hold it right there!" Comes a voice.

As one, the Thieves spin about, and find a shadow dressed in a slick, pressed dark blue suit, with shoes black against the linoleum floor, quivering with a red aura that bleeds from its back like heat.

"Knew I'd find you bastards here!" It growls. "Never send a peon to do a man's job!"

"Whoa," Mona says, backing up. "Everyone, get ready! This thing is tough!" As the words leave his mouth, the shadow vibrates, bursts, and forms into a hulking, one-legged creature. A great iron mask hides its face, and its dark blue body is shrouded in a thick, black apron. A hammer in one hand, and a pair of tongs in the other, it glares down at the group with a single, red eye peeking from beneath the mask's shell.

Faster than its bulk would imply, it launches itself across the space towards them, hammer raised high.

The Thieves scatter as the weapon swings down and smashes into the floor, with a great crunching sound.

"Damn," Skull shouts. A great blue flame rises above him, and the Captain flies free cannon leveled at the shadow. The air crackles and a great boom sounds as a ball of electricity hurtles towards it. It crashes into the thing's back, and though it arches and howls, it turns on them, all the more enraged.

"I got this," Mona shouts, darting forward. "Let's do this, Zorro!"

The masked swordsman appears above him, swishes its rapier through the air, and a great tornado rises around the blacksmith caricature.

A sharp ring sounds, and the gust reverses course and slams into Mona's face, before he can shout, "Wha-?" The cat is lifted off his feet and flies through the air, a faint mewling on his lips.

"Mona!" Panther cries, and sprints after him, leaping into the air and grabbing him before he can slam into the wall. She lands in a crouch, cradling him close.

"Okay," Joker mutters. "So, Wind's out."

_Clackclackclack_

Fox's rifle fires round after round, but even as the bullets rip into the blacksmith's body, it begins to hop forward, weapons raises.

"Ara Mitama!" Joker calls, and his mask resolves into a furious red tear drop that tears down the hall and slams into the shadow's side.

It hunches over, growling.

Then, Fox is alongside him, and calls out, "Goemon," and then everything goes cold. A wave of frost lashes out and covers the shadow, it groans and collapses to the ground, but only stays still for a moment, before it tries to lift itself up.

And then Joker summons Arsene, and his Persona spins into the air above the crippled creature. With a pump of its wings, the black tendrils rip down and into the back of the monster. It groans, but continues to shove its way upwards.

Joker feels sweat bead on his forehead. He grits his teeth and _pushes_ , and slowly, the tendrils stab deeper and deeper into the thing's flesh, until, with a weak gasp, the thing erupts into a ghost of ash, that settles on the ground.

Joker takes a deep breath, and puts a hand on his knee for balance. Fox walks up to him, and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Joker?"

"Fine," Joker says, straightening. Fox's hand falls away. "I'm fine."

Skull rolls his shoulders. "You didn't fuse Arsene, huh?"

"No," Joker snaps, and immediately regrets it. He stares at his Persona as it vanishes, replacing the mask on his face.

He had considered it last night, in the Velvet Room.

It had been Igor's suggestion. _There is great power to be found in your first, Trickster. Fuse it, and unlock something truly special._

But as the blade of the guillotine fell again and again, and the roiling feeling in his chest grew and grew, he couldn't help but think that committing Arsene to the execution block felt _wrong_.

And yet.

And yet the tendrils had barely killed an already weakened shadow. Could he expect Arsene to keep pace with the others? And if he did fuse Arsene, what did that mean for him? For Joker? For Akira?

#

Upon exiting the Palace, everyone splits.

Ann is needed at home, and Akira packs up Morgana and darts off to his flower shop gig.

Ryuji is about to bounce too, then he notices Yusuke staring at Madarame's atelier, a faraway look in his eye.

Ryuji sucks in a breath of air and lets it out in a long groan before stomping over to him and saying, "Yo, dude. Let's get something to eat." Yusuke stares at him, surprise evident on his face, but Ryuji just jams his hands in his pockets and says, "Don't gimme that deer in headlights look. C'mon."

He takes him to his favorite ramen place, but unlike with Akira, the conversation is stilted and one-sided. Yusuke cannot stop commenting on the 'ascetics' of everything he sees, even making a remark about how 'the arrangement of the food coalesces in such a way as to draw the eye of the eater.'

Ryuji has no idea what any of it means, but he just pats the kid on his back, and slurps up his food.

So, he nearly chokes when - out of nowhere - Yusuke says, "Ryuji, might I beg a question? Regarding Akira and Ann?"

Once he's done coughing, and taken a healthy gulp of water, Ryuji sets his chopsticks down and asks, "What brought that on?"

"Earlier this afternoon, when Akira and Morgana took me to the airsoft shop, the manager had a few words with our leader. It seems Makoto had been to the store, asking after him."

Ryuji's groan is so loud it draws the eyes of the other patrons. "Seriously?" He asks, softer, before letting his head hang over the still steaming bowl of ramen. "Man, this is just what we need."

"After we left, Akira walked me through the situation regarding himself, Makoto, and Ann. However, I was left with the impression I did not get the full story." He clears his throat then, and mutters. "Ann, in particular, did not come off well from the retelling."

Ryuji shuts his eyes, and rubs them with his thumb and forefinger. "Alright, dude. Tell me what he said."

Yusuke does, and when he's finished, Ryuji shakes his head.

"Okay, so that's _kinda_ how it went down, but you were right. It's not the full story."

"Then, perhaps you could shed some light on the situation for me?"

"Okay, so, since like, 'day one,' Akira and the Prez have had this 'will they, won't they' thing goin' on. We actually spent _a lot_ of time trying to trick Makoto into thinking we weren't the Phantom Thieves."

"Does she believe us to be the Phantom Thieves?"

Ryuji shrugs. "Well, I don't think she knows about you, since you're new and all. But the rest of us? Probably."

"Yet, you do not seem concerned."

"I dunno, man. Like Akira told you, Makoto apologized to me for shit I didn't even know she did. I know that the Principal told her to look into us, but I just can't get it out of my head that we don't have the full story. But everyone just kept freaking out. Ann freaked out about the Shiho thing, and gave Akira that ulti-thing-"

"Are you referring to an 'ultimatum?'"

Ryuji nods. "Yeah, that one. Anyway, she gave him that, and that just pissed him off even more. Well, actually, they were pretty mad about things to start off with. Because, see, Ohya - that reporter chick Akira's friends with - she gave him your name, but Ann already knew who you were, but she didn't tell us she knew who you were, so she knew who you were, and Akira didn't, but Akira wanted to know, and so when he found out that she knew who you were, he got mad, and then she got mad because he got mad, so then, when Makoto freaked out Shiho, Ann got even madder, and made Akira choose, which only made him even more mad, and now everyone's mad but no one wants to talk about it."

"I see," Yusuke says.

"Really?"

"No. Not at all."

Ryuji can't help smiling. "Tell me about it. Shit's confusing."

Yusuke sits back, and folds his arms across his chest. "Forgive me, for I am little more than a neophyte to the Phantom Thieves, but it seems a lot of our internal issues could be solved if Akira and Ann were to 'talk it out,' so to speak."

Ryuji spins in his chair until his whole body faces Yusuke. "You know, it's funny you mention that. See, Morgana and me? We got a plan."

"You've joined forces with the cat?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "C'mon dude, he's a human, remember? But yeah, we have." His smile grows. "Actually, it's sorta thanks to you."

"How so?" Yusuke asks.

Ryuji explains the plan. "So," he asks, once done, "you in?"

"It's a bit simplistic."

"No shit. That's why it'll work."

Yusuke smiles. "Very well. I am in."

#

Akira flies back through Shibuya before his shift starts.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-low d-d-d-d-d-own!" Morgana hisses from his bag, but Akira ignores him.

The plan in his head still makes sense, but it'll only work if a few specific things can be done, and if a few specific things can be obtained. Time is the biggest factor.

_It always fucking is_.

He turns off Central Street, darts down the familiar alley, and flies through the door of Untouchable.

His expectations are fulfilled this time, as Iwai sits behind the counter, feet up on the glass, eyes buried in a magazine.

"Twice in one day," he grumbles. "Great."

"I need to know," Akira says, and takes a deep breath. "If you can get me something by tomorrow."

Iwai's eyes narrow. "Tomorrow?"

Akira nods, heaving. "Tomorrow."

The manager's eyes swing over the top of the aisles. Akira follows his gaze. They're alone in the store. "It'll depend on what you need, and what you can pay."

Akira tells him what he needs.

#

Akira wipes the sweat from his brow. His forearm comes away damp. _Great_.

Morgana stares up at him, eyes wide and concerned. "Are you ready for this?"

The two stand in the Shibuya Underground, around the corner from Rafflesia. He'd managed to get here from Iwai's with a few minutes to spare until his shift, but now he leans against the wall, summoning what little strength remains to him.

"I think," he replies.

"Because Haru is probably still really mad at you. And Haru's scary when she's mad."

"Yeah, thanks. I remember."

"I'm just saying. Because if she's working with Makoto, you have to be even more guarded."

"I got it."

Morgana nods, and retreats back into Akira's bag. "Okay, well, I won't hold my breath. Good luck."

"Your pep talks never cease to inspire," Akira replies.

Silence from the bag.

Akira takes a few more deep breaths, then shoulders the bag, turns the corner, and marches towards the flower shop.

"Good evening, Akira-kun," Hanasaki calls, as he approaches.

"Hello," he replies, and spies a figure behind a fichus plant stiffen. Then, a moment later, a pair of violet eyes glare out from behind the leaves.

Akira enters the shop, moves past the register and the display shelves, and enters the backroom.

She enters a few seconds later, a bag of fertilizer in her arms, gaze pointedly at the ceiling, nose upturned.

"Hey, Haru," he says. Morgana's head pops out of the bag.

Haru sets down her charge, crosses her arms, and turns to regard him. Just before her glare can rip the flesh from his bones, she turns to Morgana and says, "Hello, Mona-chan."

Morgana meows. "Oh yeah, she's still mad."

Akira tries on a smile, but it does nothing to faze her.

"How's your _girlfriend?_ " Haru asks, saying the final word like a curse.

"Haru, come on," he groans.

"Hanasaki-chan wants us to feed the jasmines. I assume you can handle that without me, yes?" She turns her back and begins to head back out towards the storefront.

"I need your help," Akira blurts. Haru hesitates for only a moment. "Can I just talk to you for a second?"

She makes a small _humph_ noise, but stops walking. "You may speak at me, Kurusu-kun. I will not promise to listen or respond."

Akira rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine. Look, things got out of hand with Makoto. I need to talk to her."

Morgana shoots him a glare. "What're you doing?" He demands.

Akira pats the air in his direction. _Not now, Mona_. "But I know she's really upset with me. I need you to convince her to talk to me. Please."

No response.

"Is this part of your plan?" Morgana asks. "How is this helping?"

"Mona-chan seems upset with you too," Haru replies.

"Haru, please. I'm begging you."

She turns one eye back on him. "Mako-chan will speak with you when she's good and ready. And that's _if_ she deigns to do so."

He tries to squeeze as much pathetic into his voice as he can. "I don't want her to hate me."

She flinches at that. He sees it, but before he can act on it, she blurts out, "You should've thought of that before you began dating Takamaki!"

"Please," he says. "I have to explain. I _have_ to."

Haru frowns, tilts her head forward and stares at the ground for a time. "I will speak with Mako-chan, regarding you. It may or may not be on your behalf."

Akira feels the air rush from his lungs. "Thank you."

"I will need something in return."

"Anything," Akira replies.

Haru turns, a touch of crimson in her cheeks. "I will need an afternoon with Mona-chan."

Akira and Morgana stare at her. "Wait, what?" Akira asks.

"Me?" Morgana asks. "What's she want with me?"

Haru brings the index fingers of both her hands together, and says, shyly, "I don't have any pets, but I like looking at cat pictures. I'd like to, um, take some pictures with Mona-chan."

Akira is about to say, "Deal," when Morgana hisses, " _Conference!_ "

Akira looks down at the cat, then back at Haru, who finally meets his eyes. "I, uh, need to confer with him, for a second."

He scoops Morgana up, and retreats further into the flower shop's backroom.

He sets the cat down alongside some rhododendrons.

"No. _Freakin'_. Way," Morgana says, glaring up at him.

"Mona, please. You'd really be helping me out."

"I am not a feline fashion model! I don't take pictures with cute girls! I'm a human, trapped in a cat's body! I'm a Phantom Thief, for crying out loud! Your whole plan for getting deeper into the Palace hinges on me!"

Akira kneels down, and clasps his hands together. "Morgana, please. I need your help. Just do this one thing for me."

"You're getting distracted, idiot! How does you talking to Makoto help anything?"

"Because... I.... just, please, Morgana. Please."

"You know she's still investigating us! So _how_ can you justify this?"

He can't say the words. He can't. He knows what they are. They bounce around his skull like pinballs in a machine. But he just can't bring his mouth to open and spit them out.

So, he lies.

"We need to find out what Makoto knows, right? Haru won't give it to us. But you know that Makoto likes me. _Liked_ me. If I can get close to her, I can probably coax something out of her."

Morgana stares up at him. "Yeah, or she could punch all your teeth out and get us arrested. You're forgetting something really important, Akira."

"What's that?"

"Makoto is _smarter_ than you."

Akira nods. "I know! And she knows that too! She'll be overconfident. She'll let something slip, I just know it. Besides, who knows, maybe Haru will tell you something."

"I'm a cat," Morgana deadpans.

"So? It might just be something small, but it's not like they believe you can actually convey information to us. Like you said, you're a cat."

Morgana frowns. "I guess that's a good point."

"Please, Morgana," Akira says. "Let's do this. We can do this. For the good of the Phantom Thieves."

Morgana rolls his eyes and stays silent for a time. "Fine," he eventually says. "But I'm not wearing any stupid hats."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! If you've gotten off work, congrats! If you're at work or school, my sympathies. 
> 
> I'd like to reiterate my thanks to everyone who gave me a VN rec. My list is a lot longer now, but I plan on thinning it a bit when I get the chance.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed today's chapter! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on Wednesday!


	49. Niijima-ing

5/25

Makoto sits and stares at the pages before her.

From what feels like very far away, a voice say, "...should handle the permissions required for the newspaper club."

Another voice. "Doesn't the newspaper club have, like, one member?"

"Club's a club, we need to honor their requests as best we can, and..."

Makoto lifts her phone off the table and peeks at the time. "Alright," she says, putting as much benevolent authority into her voice as she can. "I think we've covered enough ground for today. Let’s wrap it up."

The rest of her administration falls into silence, and steal glances at one another. Her Treasurer is brave enough to speak first. "Um, Niijima-san, are you sure? It's kind of early."

She smiles at him. "True, but we've all been working hard. It won't hurt to postpone these discussions until our next meeting."

Her Secretary, his pencil tapping away against the desk, asks, "This isn't a trick, is it?"

Makoto blinks. "A trick?"

"Yeah, I mean, you're not going to have us leave, and then chew us out for leaving early, are you?"

Makoto's smile suddenly feels very grating. "Would I do a thing like that?"

Silence.

She lays her hands atop one another, and pretends she’s smothering each of them with a pillow. "This is not a trick. We've all been working very hard. Let's take a break. You're all excused for the day."

There is a single beat of nothing, where even the air seems to hang still, and then they begin to pack. They shove their books into their bags with abandon. A few continue to glance her way, anticipating danger.

_Is this really the impression I give off?_ She wonders, and cannot decide if this makes her a bit sad. Then, they are standing, and one by one, file out of the room as fast as decorum allows.

And then Makoto is alone.

And then there is a knock on the door.

And a pause.

And then another knock.

Makoto stands, makes her way to the door, and knocks on it, herself, twice.

Another pause.

Then, from outside, _knock_.

She opens the door, and finds Haru beaming at her. "All set?" The girl asks.

"Of course," Makoto replies.

She steps aside, and Haru shuffles in and drops her book bag on the table. "Shall we begin?"

Makoto grins, and opens her own bag.

In a short time, the student council room is transformed into the headquarters for 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic.'

The marker board is ornamented with surveillance photos, taken with her smartphone, and printed at home, detailing the suspected Phantom Thieves engaged in various activities, such as standing in the school, standing outside the school, and sitting in a diner. Over the top of the board, Makoto has written, 'The Cat is the Key.'

The table is covered with a map of Tokyo, dotted with notations. Locations like LeBlanc, Shujin, Untouchable, and Shibuya Underground, are marked in red.

A large file with 'Supplementary Material' written across it is sprawled open, with two piles, one of which contains notes and turns of phrase Makoto can remember Akira using in the past, and the other is composed of doodles Haru put together of Makoto and Akira holding hands.

Makoto has questioned the need for this latter 'evidence,' but Haru has stressed its importance.

"Where did we leave off last time?" Makoto asks.

"We were discussing Mona-chan's possible role in... I think you called it, 'information conveyance,'" Haru replies, sitting at the table as though she were in class.

"Right," Makoto says, and turns back to the board. "I'm thinking there must be some kind of small camera attached to his collar. Maybe it's linked to Akira's phone?"

Haru frowns. "I guess that's an option. But it doesn't explain how he can get Mona-chan to do things, like pull fire alarms and steal your notebook. I still say it's because he's-"

"Please don't say it," Makoto cuts in.

Haru ignores her. " _Magic_."

Makoto sighs. "Haru, we've been over this. There's no way the cat is magic."

Haru rolls her eyes. "How do the Phantom Thieves change hearts then? You spoke to Daisuke. No one came anywhere close to him that day. All he got was the calling card. What if the Phantom Thieves of Hearts are magic? Then their cat could be magic too."

"Akira isn't magic. And I'm still not entirely convinced they can 'steal hearts.'"

"He-" Haru starts.

"Don't say it!" Makoto blurts.

"-stole yours, _didn't he?_ " Haru's smile is huge and she throws her head back, giggling.

Makoto feels her cheeks redden. "You know, that gets less funny every time you say it."

Haru shakes her head. "No, it doesn't. It really doesn't."

Her jocularity is infectious, and Makoto can't help but smile and fantasize about certain _things_ for just a moment, before she brings herself back to business. "Well, anyway, it was good thinking. Getting Akira to agree to give you Morgana for a day. That'll give us time to examine him."

Haru frowns at that. "You're not going to run tests on him, are you? I love Mona-chan. I don't want to see him hurt."

Makoto shakes her head. "Of course not. I just want to check his collar. His fur. There's got to be some evidence, some explanation for how that cat does the things it does."

"Magic," Haru whispers, and when Makoto glares at her, she says, "Have you thought about what you're going to say to Akira-kun?"

Makoto drops into a chair, with a heavy sigh. "Honestly? I'm more worried about what he's going to say to me. I keep running through these scenarios in my head, but I know it won't go the way I want it to." She smiles at her friend. "I'm terrified it's going to blow up in my face. Like it already did." She remembers the sensation of Takamaki's open palm against her cheek, the look on Akira's face when he’d denied nothing about dating her. "I don't want to go through that again."

Haru nods. "I'll ask Akira for Mona-chan the next time I see him at work. Then, we'll get to the bottom of all this."

"You're right. I guess I'm-"

She is interrupted by a muffled _buzz_ from her friend’s bag. Haru smiles and pulls out her phone. When she looks at it, her eyes go wide.

"Oh," Haru says. "Oh."

"Something wrong?" Makoto asks.

"I need to, um, go. I'd forgotten I had a previous appointment."

"I see. Something for your father’s company?"

Haru's nod is quick and sharp. "Something like that." She stands, lifts her bag and brushes a few stray hairs from her face. "I'm sorry, Mako-chan. Could we talk about this some more later? I really have to get going."

"Of course," Makoto tells her. "We can't really take another step forward until we've got Morgana, after all."

"R-right. You're absolutely right," Haru says as she speeds towards the door. She opens it, smiles once more at Makoto, and quickly blurts out, "Thanks! Bye!" Then, she shuts it.

Makoto stares up at the board. She can't shake the feeling in her gut. Her eyes drift down to the desk, and spy Haru's notebook on the table. _Oh, she forgot that_.

She snatches it up and stands. Haru had only left a few seconds ago, she should still be able to catch her. Besides, Makoto barely has room enough in her bag for all her schoolwork and her share of the investigation material.

Makoto exits their headquarters into the hall, making sure to lock the door after her. It wouldn't do for another student to walk in and discover just what the two girls were up to. Not seeing Haru, Makoto quickly makes her way to the stairwell and descends to the first floor. It's beginning to get late, and a number of students are either involved in club activities, or have left for the day, and so Makoto passes few of them in the halls.

She doesn't find Haru until she steps out of Shujin's front entrance, and looks down the steps leading to the school.

Haru is in the street just outside the gates. She is standing next to a limousine. An older man, perhaps in his twenties has his hand wrapped around one of her wrists. He wears an expensive white suit, and a sneer.

Makoto does not think. She barrels down the steps, a snarl of her own sketching itself across her face, and a strange feeling in her chest, like the revving of an engine. She utters something close to, "Get off her," but isn't quite, and then, her own hand is wrapped around the man's arm, and she's _shoving_.

The man yells, "Ah! What the-" at the same time Haru goes, "Mako-chan?"

Then, there is a great flurry of limbs, and the man ends up with his back against the limousine, groaning and rubbing his arm through his suit. Makoto's hands are up, and Haru's are on her arm. The girl is begging her, "Makoto, stop!"

The man straightens and glares at them both. "Who is this _bitch_ , Haru?"

The venom in his voice takes her aback, but Makoto holds her ground. "I don't know who you are, but you'd better get out of here before I call the police."

Then, he tilts back his head, and laughs. "The police? Go ahead! I'll have you arrested for assault."

"Assault?" Makoto asks, and puts as much swagger into her voice as she can. "I don't think so. I saw you hurting my friend, and I-"

"I don't remember hurting her. We were having a nice chat, weren't we, Haru?" There is silence after that. " _Weren't we, Haru?_ " He repeats.

"Y-yes," Haru replies. Makoto, for the first time, becomes aware pleading tone in her friend’s voice. "Please, Mako-chan. Please, stop."

She doesn't want to take her eyes from him, but she can't help but turn to meet her friend's gaze. "Haru, what is going on? Who is this?"

The man makes a show of dusting off his suit. "She's never mentioned me, huh? Some friend."

Haru can only look at Makoto's eyes for a few moments, and then she averts them. "Please, Mako-chan. I'm fine, alright? Please, just stop."

"No," Makoto says. "What’s going on?"

"I'm bored," the man says. "Haru, get in the car. I'm not asking again. And you," he says, and points at Makoto. "I'd better not see you again. Challenge me like that again, and I'll have the police on your ass so quick, you'll be behind bars before you can even blink."

"Haru," Makoto says, ignoring him. "Who _is_ this?"

"He's-" Haru begins. "He's... I'll call you later!" And then Haru is stepping away from her and into the limousine. The man gives Makoto one last, disgusting smile, before following her inside. The door shuts.

The car drives away.

Makoto stands there, watching it go.

#

The court smells like sweat and wood. It’s stuffy. Too many bodies, packed too tightly.

Sae can feel a flush throughout her body. _Relax_ , she thinks. _Just do your job. There’s nothing about this case that makes it different from any other._

But, of course, that isn’t true.

She tries to keep her eyes on the paperwork laid out before her. Tries to keep her back rigid, her posture pristine, seated as she is, at the Prosecutor’s table. She fails.

Her eyes inch up, bit by bit, until she spies the defendant, slumped in the too-small chair she’s convinced is designed to make the accused as uncomfortable as possible.

As if he can sense her gaze, Suguru Kamoshida lifts his own eyes, dull and exhausted, and looks at her.

For a short time, they simply stare at each other.

Then, Sae begins to think about this _thing_ almost _touching_ her sister. She thinks about herself, standing, picking up a pen, and stalking across the courtroom floor and over to him, where she jabs it into his neck, again and again.

She thinks about herself, strangling him with the dumb _fucking_ tie he wore to make himself look something close to presentable.

She thinks about herself, sneaking into his cell, tying him down, dousing him in lighter fluid, and striking a match.

She thinks about herself, breaking every bone in his perverted body.

She thinks about herself.

Kamoshida looks away.

Three judges enter. Sae stands. Kamoshida stands. Everyone stands.

The motions begin, but before can proceed for long, Kamoshida’s defense attorney spits out, “Your Honors, we move to have this entire case dismissed.”

The judges, all older men with graying hair, all wearing serious and thin glasses, make muffled, _hmmph_ noises and glance at one another.

Sae keeps the smile from her face.

The judge on the left clears his throat. “We are under the impression that your client has confessed to his crimes. On what grounds would you propose we dismiss these charges?”

The attorney, skin slick with sweat, smiles in a way that almost looks genuine. “On the grounds that said confession was coerced, and must therefore be considered inadmissible.”

Sae stands. “The defendant confessed to the sexual and physical assault of minors. He did so in front of the entire student body and faculty at Shujin Academy. You consider that inadmissible?” She knows where this is going, but she wants him to say it.

“Before his confession, Kamoshida-sensei received a specific threat in the form of-“

“Your Honors,” Sae cuts in. “May we approach?”

The three judges look at one another, and then the center one raises his hands and beckons them forward. The defense attorney shuffles his way over. Sae strides. “The defense,” she begins, before anyone can talk, “in no doubt about to cite the well-known ‘Calling Card’ from the group known as the ‘Phantom Thieves.’ I’m sure the defense will claim that this group _somehow_ managed to force Suguru Kamoshida into a confession, and while that’s a very interesting theory, I would like to point out that no one has figured out _how._ And, of course, there is the ample amount of testimony collected from the students at Shujin Academy, themselves.”

The defense attorney shakes his head. “The testimonies of those students have yet to be corroborated. Suguru Kamoshida is a celebrated Olympian, a representative of our very country. If this trial proceeds, I intend to show…”

Sae tunes out. _Is he serious?_ Would this little weasel go through all this trouble to take a stand for, of all people, Suguru Kamoshida? _Think_. She has too many important things going on to waste any more of her time on this bastard. _I need to convince these judges to go ahead and convict already. How?_

The defense attorney is still prattling on when she figures it out. She interrupts the man. “There is something else to consider, Your Honors.”

The rightmost judge cocks a brow at her. “Oh?”

“You’re aware, I’m sure, that this is a high profile case. One that many people are following _very_ closely.” She locks eyes with the centermost judge. She knows him. Knows he’s as ambitious as everyone else in this profession. “This is the kind of case that can draw national attention, to all parties involved. The defendant. The prosecution. The judges.” She allows a small smile to tug at the corner of her lips.

“What?” The defense attorney asks.

Sae ignores him. “I would also like to point out that, at this moment, the public’s perception of Suguru Kamoshida is, negative, to say the least. In the eyes of the people of Japan, he’s a rapist. A monster.”

The attorney shakes his head. “Just a moment, you-“

“To dismiss this case on the grounds of an ‘ill-gotten confession’ would likely cause mass discontent throughout the country. If a monster like Kamoshida can walk under our justice system, how capable is our justice system? Do _you_ want to be the judges that put this notion in their minds, Your Honors?”

“Wh-what?” The attorney’s mouth hangs agape. “Sirs! Your Honors, this is-”

“Well put, Niijima-san,” the center judge replies. He glances over at the attorney. “We will proceed with the trial. I hope, for your sake, you have something else up your sleeve.” The other two judges nod. The defense attorney pales.

As she returns to her respective position, Sae knows she’s wearing a shark’s grin, but she can’t help it.

_I win_.

The remainder of the trial is quick. Kamoshida himself readmits to his guilt, as Sae figured he would, despite his attorney’s insistence that he remain silent. The judges nod along, as if this were all rote, and declare their sentence. Life. This is sufficient.

When Sae leaves the courthouse, she finds Akechi standing at the base of the building’s steps. “Well?” He asks, beaming. “How did the prosecution of Suguru Kamoshida go?”

“Acceptably,” Sae replies, but she knows she dresses the word up in an amused tone.

“Niijima-san!” Comes a voice from behind. She turns, and finds the defense attorney, red-faced, glaring daggers at her. He charges down the steps, and gets halfway to her when he begins to say, “What was that, Niijima-san? You and I both know that-”

“That,” Sae spits, cutting him off. “Was how you win. You should try it sometime.”

She turns and walks away.

“Bravo,” Akechi tells her, as they head down the street. “I believe that is what the people of my generation call, a _burn_.”

“Are you done?” Sae asks, but there’s not bite behind it. That rush is back. The pounding in her chest. She knows she should be elated because that sick bastard got what he deserved, but she knows she’d feel no different if someone else had been on trial.

She’d _won_.

It might’ve seemed brutal, unethical even, playing the judges like that, but it was elegant in its own way.

The feeling sparkles within her. It lights up her brain so that everything and anything seems possible.

It dances behind her eyes and for a brief moment, she can live with it all. Live with the dead parents. With the dependent sister. With the male dominated arena she enters day in and day out. Because today, she _won_. And she’ll win again, and again, and again. Because winning is what she _does_.

The feeling races through her like lightning.

And then it starts to fade.

She walks down the street, towards her office, with the same stoic demeanor she forces all day. But she feels it leaving, leaking out of her somehow. Leaving her.

And then it is gone. And she feels like she always feels.

_Just have to win again_.

“Akechi,” she barks.

 The boy blinks at the sudden harshness of her tone. “Yes?”

“Did you look into that thing I mentioned before?”

He nods. “I did.”

“And?”

“Well, Yukio Kan had many political opponents. It’ll take some time to sift through them and find just who might’ve posed a real, physical threat to him.” He clears his throat. “And forgive me, but I followed up with the corpse as well. The coroner stressed to me that the man died of a heart attack, just as reported. I see no reason to suspect a…” and here he pauses, and glances behind them, “mental shutdown.”

“Keep looking,” Sae says. “There’s something there, I’m sure of it.” She leaves him then, picking up her pace as she glides down the sidewalk, unaware that Akechi remains behind, staring at her back.

#

Makoto stares at her phone.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Haru, please! Call me!_

She has sent a variation of this message several times in the last few hours. Haru has yet to reply. Her heart hammers in her chest. Was she okay? Who was that man? Was he a relative? Someone else?

Makoto doesn't know, and it is killing her.

She stands up, leaves her phone on the kitchen's island, and begins to pace the kitchen. Her eyes never leave her phone. "Come on, come on," she whispers.

When the door opens, and Sae walks in, Makoto rushes to her side, and begins babbling before she can think better of it. "Sis! I'm so glad you're home, I need your help, my friend is in trouble and I don't know what to do."

Sae regards her with tired eyes, the eyes Makoto has seen her carry many times before, and she knows better than to push during these times, but she can't help it. Sae grumbles out a small, "Can I put my bag down, at least?" She slides past Makoto and deeper into the apartment. She sets her purse on the couch, and slides down next to it with a heavy sigh.

Makoto walks up to her, hands clasped in front of her, regarding her sister. "Um, Sis?"

"Kamoshida's trial was today," Sae says. "He'll be going away for a long time."

"Oh," Makoto says, blinking. It wasn't as if she had forgotten about it, but she'd been so preoccupied with Akira and now Haru, it had been shoved to some back corner of her mind. "That's good. That's great."

Sae nods, opens her eyes, and stares at the ceiling. "Makoto," she mutters, and Makoto has to take a step back. Because when her sister speaks, it isn't the abrasive Sae, or the unstoppable Sae, or the rarest of all Sae’s, the one that listens to her. "I'm really tired. Can we talk about whatever it is you need to discuss, tomorrow?"

Makoto wants to nod. She wants to say, "Sure," and pretend it's not a big deal. But then she remembers the man in the white suit, with his hand around her friend's wrist, and she just can't. "I'm sorry, but I really need your help."

Her sister sighs again, but this one is long and frustrated. "What, then? Is that idiot Principal giving you a hard time again? I told him to back off."

"N-no," Makoto says. "I haven't heard from Principal Kobayakowa for a long time now. I'm talking about my friend, remember? She needs help, and I don't know what to do."

"What friend?" Sae asks, the words harsh and sharp.

"Haru Okumura," Makoto says, meekly.

Sae finally turns her gaze to Makoto. "I don't remember you ever mentioning a Haru Okumura."

"We... we've been hanging out lately." She can't bring up Akira Kurusu _now_. "She's my friend and this afternoon I saw her with some man, and-"

"Her boyfriend?"

"No! It couldn't be. He had his hand on her wrist and was yelling at her, and I went up to them and shoved him and-"

"You _what?_ " Sae demands, and shoots up, until she towers over Makoto like she used to when they were little kids. Only, when they were young, Makoto had always felt safe in her sister's shadow. Now, she feels the unmistakable tang in the air of _threat_. "You _attacked_ someone?"

"He was assaulting-"

"Makoto," Sae spits. "How could you be so _stupid?_ "

She feels the sharp sting of Takamaki's slap. She feels the sinking feeling of dread when Akira had shouted at her that one day. She feels the inky wrongness she'd felt when she had lied to Haru. She feels all these things and so much more, so much worse, because Sae is glaring at her, and in that one terrible moment, Makoto is completely sure that her sister hates her.

She cannot reply, and just makes little choking sounds instead.

"Do you think I have time for this?" Sae demands. "Do you think I have time to clean up _another_ of your messes?"

"He... he was-"

"How old was he?"

"I don't know," Makoto blurts. "In his twenties, maybe?"

"An adult. Perfect. What was his name?"

"I don't know."

"Find out."

"I'm trying. I keep texting and calling Haru and-"

"Well, _keep_ texting and calling. I need to know his name."

"Sis, please, calm down."

"Calm down," Sae says, and shakes her head. "Calm down. That's so easy for you, isn't it, Makoto?" She bites out a small chuckle. "Must be so great, to hang out with your friends. Haru Okumura. Akira Kurusu. Oh yes," she says, when she sees Makoto's eyes widen, "don't think I've forgotten about _him_. I better not find out you've been hanging out with him like some idiot love-struck girl."

"Sis, I-"

Sae lifts her fingers until they're in front of Makoto's face, and she makes a space between her thumb and index finger. "You're _this_ close to getting into a good school. I got you that letter of recommendation back. Your grades are acceptable-"

"Acceptable?" Makoto asks. "I'm at the top of my class."

"Like I said," Sae snaps. " _Acceptable_. And yet you still can't seem to wrap your head around this, can you? _I_ got your moronic Principal to back off and get you that letter of recommendation. _I_ put that sick bastard Kamoshida behind bars for the rest of his life. _I_ let you stay with me in this apartment that _I_ pay for. _I_ put you through school. _I_ do all _this_ for you, and to thank me, you assault some random man on the street?"

Makoto wants to explain. She wants to scream right back at Sae. She wants to grab her sister by the shoulders and shake her until she shuts the _fuck_ up and listens to her. But she doesn't. She can't.

Because she's afraid. There's a malice in her sister's eyes. An intensity she's never seen before. It burns into her own gaze, smothers her, drowns her.

Sae snatches her purse off the couch and marches towards her own room. "Find out the name, and get it to me as soon as you can. I'll fix this for you too."

Her bedroom door slams shut, and Makoto is left staring at the space she had just occupied.

And then Makoto hears the vibration on the kitchen's island. It's her phone. She drags herself over to it, and checks the message.

**_HARU_** _: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry_.

#

Ohya shoves her way into Crossroads, and wonders if she's forgotten about any shots she took earlier, because Akira Kurusu is standing behind the bar.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she says, as she slides into her usual seat, eyes narrow. "What're you doing here?"

"I work here," Akira replies. He's smiling at her, but it's a different kind of smile. A cocky one. One she's never seen him wear. _What's he got going on that's so special?_

Ohya frowns and shouts down the bar, "Lala-chan! What's Kurusu doing here?"

Lala-chan turns and fixes her with a smile. "He works here."

Ohya makes a face and turns back to Kurusu. "What do you even do here? You can't serve alcohol."

Akira shrugs. "True, but I can serve soda. Want some?"

Ohya hears Takemi's words biting into her mind, but she clears them and says, "No. What I want is something you can't give me, kiddo."

Akira's face drops for a moment, but then it straightens back out again. He leans in closer and says, "So, I was wondering."

"Stop the presses."

"Nice. I was wondering, remember how Madarame had that storage unit?"

"I remember how we suspect he has one, but we can't confirm it."

Akira's grin grows. "It's confirmed."

Ohya stares at him. "How do _you_ know that?" Akira just shrugs. "Don't play that shit with me. I've had a rough few days."

Akira's face softens. "Okay, okay. Sorry. But look. I've got an idea to see what's inside. I need your help. You in?"

Ohya shakes her head and shouts down the bar. "Lala-chan! Since this kid can't serve anything worthwhile, let me have my usual!"

"Going home alone and waking up with a crushing headache?" Lala-chan asks.

"Oh, _ha, haa, haaaaaaaaaa_ ," Ohya replies. "Seriously." And then she looks back at Akira, and she allows just a tinge of respect into her voice when she says, "I was never _not_ in, cuz."

Akira smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think with a title like that, it would be a happy chapter?!
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you all have a good Wednesday!


	50. What's in the Box?

5/26

Madarame gestures to the piece. "And with this, you see the juxtaposition of nature and mankind's encroachment upon it."

The people nod, and make hushed noises of appreciation.

Madarame smiles, basking in their acceptance. The piece is nothing but a bunch of swirls, but in his experience, the more vague something is, the more specific a 'meaning' you can attach to it.

He turns and moves along the wall, towards the next painting in his exhibit, and this day's gaggle of sycophants follow, squawking and gesturing and letting him know through all their many ways how much they love and appreciate him.

This continues for a time. It is much the same as the time before it. And the time before that. And the time before that.

When Madarame is alone at night, away from his girlfriends and students and dealings, when he sits in his hotel rooms or in his First Class airline seats, a faint little thought tends to wiggle its way into his brain.

_This is all so... boring_.

There's no challenge to it. And he's so famous, no one dares critique his 'work.'

He spends the remainder of the day walking these people around his exhibit, spouting all the nonsense they love to lap up.

Then, he leaves, via the back exit. It is a hot day, and the air hangs heavy in the small alleyway. He steps his way through it, towards the spot where his limo awaits.

"Sensei?" Comes a soft voice.

His adrenaline spikes. He feels his blood race through his veins.

Very slowly, Madarame turns around, and comes face to face with Yusuke Kitagawa.

The boy stares at him, a strange mix of longing and fear and anger in his eyes. He wears the same clothes he'd worn the last time Madarame had seen him, on Sunday. It occurs to Madarame, that he has no idea where Yusuke has been. He's been so busy.

"Y-Yusuke," Madarame starts, but the boy cuts him off.

"Sensei, please!" He stammers, and closes the distance between the two of them. "I have no place to stay. I have nothing to _do_. I can't take this anymore."

"Yusuke," Madarame says, taking a step back. "That's close enough." This isn't the first time a disgruntled former apprentice has tried to accost him. He knows what to say, what to do. Feign the surprise. Feign ignorance.

"Please, _please_ tell them it was all a lie. Please, let me come home."

"You know I can't do that," Madarame says, picking up his pace.

"But why?" He demands. "I don't understand? Why did you do this to me? Why did you throw me out? Why did you lie?"

Madarame shakes his head. "I've no idea what you're talking about, my boy. But I think it would be best if you kept your distance."

"Answer me!" Yusuke pleads, his voice high and pathetic. "Please, just answer me. Why did you do all this? Why _do_ you do all this?" And then, he asks, "Why do you have a storage unit in my mother's name?"

Madarame stops. "What did you just say?" He asks. His mind spins. _How does he know that? Does he know what's inside? HOW DOES HE KNOW THAT?_

"Sensei, please," Yusuke says, and lunges. He grabs Madarame's robes by the collar, and moans, "Why do you have a unit in her name, Sensei?"

"Get off of me," Madarame shouts, and shoves the frail boy away. He spins and sprints down the length of the alley, towards the limo. _I need to get there. I need to check. If they know what's inside. If_ anyone _knows what's inside, it's all over!_

He does not spare another glance for Yusuke. If he had, he might've seen the boy take his cellphone from his pocket, and start to type.

#

Akira waits outside Shibuya station, staring at his phone.

It vibrates, once.

It's a text from Yusuke.

**_YUSUKE_ ** _: I find myself quite hungry. Might I trouble you for some LeBlanc curry?_

Akira smiles as he reads the message.

He puts his phone away, pulls out his burner, and dials a number.

"Go," he says, when it's answered.

#

Madarame taps his foot against the limo's floor as it crawls its way through Tokyo.

"Hurry _up_ ," he shouts at the driver, more than once.

The skyscrapers slowly recede as they enter the Tokyo Bay, with its warehouses and the faint aroma of the ocean.

"Come on, come on," he whispers as they turn towards Natsuki Storage.

He's racked his brain the entire trip. How could Yusuke have learned about the unit in his mother's name? And what did it mean that he had? Upon reflection, Yusuke hadn't made any mention of what was actually inside the unit. Did that mean he hadn't seen inside? Would he have even had the opportunity to see inside? Security at Natsuki Storage was supposed to be tight, given the clientele.

_Evidently, it's not that tight_.

When they pull up outside, Madarame leaps from the car and narrowly avoids stepping on a black cat that hisses up at him. He considers kicking it for the briefest of moments, but realizes he doesn't have the time, and continues on and into the building.

"I need entrance to my unit," he says, to the shady looking young man, who sits at the desk. "Now."

"Easy there," the kid replies. "Let's keeps things civil."

"Enough of this," Madarame blurts. "Buzz me in."

The kid, nonchalantly, and without taking his eyes from Madarame, takes a deep breath and sighs. "Let's see some ID."

"I came through here a few weeks ago!" Madarame shouts.

The kid shrugs. "Lots of people come through here. I'm not so great with faces. My mother says it was because my dad dropped me on my head one too many times. Course, she blames him for _everything_ , and-"

"Fuck!" Madarame shouts, fumbling around in his robes, before he pulls out his ID card and hands it over. "Here!"

The kid picks it up, looks at it, and then slowly draws a binder from beneath the desk. He flips through it, painstaking page by painstaking page. "Ah. Here we go. For the Chisako Kitagawa unit, yeah?"

"Yes, yes, that's mine," Madarame growls. "Now _please_ , buzz me in!"

The kid sets his ID on the counter, and slowly slides it over to him. Then, he reaches beneath the desk, and Madarame hears a faint and familiar _BUZZ_ ring through the room.

He flies past the desk and shoves open the door, before barreling his way down the hall to his unit. He fumbles through his robes once more and pulls out his card. He comes to a halt before his unit, and slides it through the card reader. It feels _sticky_ almost, but he doesn't have time to think on it, before he punches in his numerical code.

He hears the door unlock with a vibrant _click_ , and it swings open. He switches on the light, and takes it all in.

He inhales.

He exhales.

He inhales.

He exhales.

"Oh, thank god," he whispers.

It's all still there. He knows the count like the back of his hand.

But he still doesn’t know how Yusuke knew about this unit.

He slams the door shut, and heads back towards the entrance.

"I need to see my file," he demands, once he's back in.

"Huh?" The kid asks.

"My file. The one your lot had me sign when I first took out this unit. I need to see it."

"Why?" The kid asks. "You're all paid up."

"I need to make sure it's _safe_."

The kid rolls his eyes and says, "Fine." When he stands, Madarame is convinced it is the slowest anyone has ever stood in the history of standing.

He follows him, hands shaking, into the room marked 'Records,' and waits while the kid slides open one of the filing cabinets.

"Let's see... Chisako Kitagawa, Chisako Kitagawa," the kid replies.

Then, silence save for the shifting of paper.

And more silence.

And more silence.

"Well?" Madarame demands.

The kid frowns. "Where the hell is... oh." He straightens, a folder in hand. "Here it is."

Madarame snatches it out of his grip and opens it. All the paperwork is there. Nothing's missing.

He lets out a sigh of relief. Everything is where it's supposed to be.

So how did Yusuke find out?

"Someone knows about my unit here," Madarame says.

The kid shrugs. "Wasn't from us. We've got a strict, 'No Talking,' policy."

"Well, _someone_ told my former apprentice about it."

The kid blinks. "Well, why don't you ask _him_ , where he found out about it?"

Madarame's eyes narrow. "I may do just that."

He shoves the folder back into the hands of the kid, and takes his leave of Natsuki Storage, his head lost in his own thoughts.

If he'd been paying more attention, he might've noticed the black cat from earlier, poised and ready to climb the facility's fence.

#

The Palace's double doors rumble open, and the Phantom Thieves throw up a cheer.

"Way to go, Mona!" Panther shouts, and lifts up Mona into a tight hug. The cat makes the face of one whose dream has just come true.

"You too, bro," Skull says, and slaps Fox on the back. "Way to sell it."

Fox smiles, but it's small.

Joker slides the device out from the card reader. "You okay, Fox?" He asks.

"I am," Fox replies. "It's just..."

"You're wondering about what we saw inside Madarame's unit."

He nods. "Indeed. I know we've more important things to focus on right now, but I must admit, I'm fairly disturbed by what it contained."

Skull throws an arm over Fox's shoulder. "Don't sweat it, dude. Once we get Madarame's Treasure, we'll make him confess everything."

Joker nods. "Skull's right. We'll get Madarame to tell us the truth. I promise."

Fox's smile grows more genuine. "I've no doubt. Thank you, my friends."

"Alright!" Panther shouts, tossing Mona into the air. "Let's get moving, Phantom Thieves! We've got a Treasure to steal!"

"R-right," Mona states, righting himself. "The Treasure's just ahead! Let's secure our infiltration route!"

The Thieves dash forward, through the open doors.

#

"Okay," Makoto says, and takes another deep breath. "Okay, you can do this."

She knows this could screw up Operation Whatever They Were Going to Do to Akira, but she doesn't care.

Haru hadn't been in school. Makoto had searched for her in homeroom, and every time the classroom's door had opened, her eyes had shot to it, hoping she would catch a glimpse of her friend, safe and sound.

But she never came. She texted her again and again, but after Haru's brief spurt of texts the night before, she hadn't heard anything.

She takes out her phone and reviews them again.

**_HARU_ ** _: I'm really sorry about today Mako-chan!_

**_HARU_ ** _: But please, please, please, can we just drop it? Please?_

**_HARU_ ** _: It's complicated and I don't know if I'm ready to tell you about it, so please, can we just drop it?_

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Haru, who the hell was that?_

**_HARU_ ** _: You don't have anything to worry about. He's not going to do anything, and it'll all be fine, so please, just let it go._

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Haru, you can tell me. What's going on?_

But then Haru had stopped texting. Makoto wonders if she should've just agreed, and gotten Haru to come clean, but she had promised herself she wasn't going to lie to her friend anymore.

And despite what Sae had _screamed_ at her, Makoto wasn't going to let that scumbag get away with messing with her best friend.

Makoto puts her phone away. She doesn't remember when she started thinking of Haru as her best friend. It must've been recently. But it doesn't matter. She _does_ think of her that way, and so she needs to help her.

_Enough stalling!_ Makoto thinks, and storms around the corner and towards Raffelsia. Haru wasn't in class, but maybe she would be at her part-time job.

She knew she ran the risk of running into Akira, but she would just ignore him and focus on finding Haru.

Only, when she reaches the storefront, she finds it absent save for a middle-aged woman. "Good evening, young lady," the woman says. "May I help you?"

"Oh," Makoto says, trying to look past her. "I'm, um, a friend of Haru Okumura's. I was wondering if she was here?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Haru-chan called in sick today."

Makoto feels something in her chest sink. "I see." Then, she stiffens. "Is Akira Kurusu here, by chance?"

The manager's smile becomes strained. "Surprisingly, he called out too. I believe his excuse was a 'complicated school schedule.'"

"Oh," Makoto replies. "Alright, well, thank you."

"Of course," the woman says, and gestures to the flowers behind her. "Interested, by chance?"

Makoto tries to smile. "Thank you, but perhaps some other time." She bows and walks away.

_Where the hell is everyone?_

#

Ohya scrolls through each picture, slowly.

She sits in her apartment, hot and silent, the only illumination the scalding blue light from her desktop.

When she reaches the end of the series, she returns to the beginning and clicks, again and again, until she reaches the end.

She lets out a long whistle, and whispers into the darkness, "Not sure how you did it, Akira. But you did it."

#

The Mona mobile rumbles along at a steady gait. Joker keeps one hand on the wheel, and the other is flung lazily over the seat behind him. He wears a small smile on his face.

Fox leans forward from where he sits in the middle row. "When, exactly, are you going to tell us where we're going?"

"When we get there," Joker replies.

Panther sighs. "Seriously, Joker? We found the Treasure Room. We should get some rest if we're going to send the calling card tomorrow."

Skull peers out into the distance. "Yeah, bro. Normally, I'm down for whatever you've got cookin', but I don't see how driving into Madarame's ghost town helps anything."

Joker just keeps smiling and keeps driving.

Panther crosses her arms and huffs. "Mona," she snaps at the bus that surrounds them.

"Do you know anything about this?"

"Hehehe," the bus replies. " _Maybe_."

Fox leans over and whispers to Panther. "Do you suppose he intends to kill us and leave our bodies in the Metaverse? It would be the perfect crime."

"What?" Panther blurts. "No!"

Joker chuckles. "I can hear you, you know. You're sitting right behind me. And no, I'm not going to kill anyone. Actually, we're just about there."

They pull up alongside a building what would correspond with the real world's Shibuya. "Hey," Skull says. "We've been here before, right?"

Joker parks Mona, and the thieves slide out. "This," Fox says, staring up at the two story structure. "This is the art gallery. The one where Madarame's exhibit is taking place."

Mona bursts into a puff of smoke and resumes his regular form, a giant smile on his face. "That's right!"

"What're we doing here?" Fox asks, turning to Joker.

Joker strides forward, and pats Fox on the shoulder as he passes him. "Follow me." He leads them to the front door, unlocked but heavy, and when he shoves it open, the resulting _clang_ echoes out into the street.

They enter the main room, and look around. It is absent people, but full of art.

"This is kind of creepy," Panther whispers.

Joker watches as Fox makes his way to a single piece hanging on one of the walls. It is a painting of a forest, speckled with red paint. Fox stops before it, and stares.

Joker steps up alongside him. "I got the idea when you took off, the first time we brought you here." He spreads his hands wide. "This whole version of Tokyo is Madarame's cognition. The Palace is distorted, but the rest of it seemed pretty normal. It got me thinking."

Fox says nothing.

"I figured, if everything outside the Palace was more or less the same, then maybe the art gallery would be the same as in the real world. And maybe, it would have all the art work, still inside it."

Beneath his mask, Fox's lip quivers.

"Really soon, Madarame's going to confess to his crimes," Joker continues. "He's going to tell everyone how he's been plagiarizing his apprentices for years. How all of this art, is actually stolen. Who knows what will happen to it, in the real world? The police may take it as evidence and lock it away somewhere. Or maybe the gallery owner will toss them out. I've got no idea.

"But, if you want, we can take your painting out of here. It's not the piece you painted, but it still kind of is, right?" Joker gestures towards the work. "This is _your_ painting, Fox. You did this. It doesn't deserve to sit in some evidence locker somewhere, or in a dumpster. But look around. No one's here. We could take it, walk right out of here, and exit to the real world with it intact. No one would stop us. No one would know. You'd get to keep it."

Fox nods. "And when the Palace collapses-"

"When the Palace collapses, all of this goes away. Everything we just drove past. This building. _Every_ building. All the work." He smiles at his friend. "So, let's take back your work, Fox!"

Skull laughs. "Hell yeah! That'll stick it to that Madarame bastard!"

Fox dips his head, reaches out a hand, and rests it on Joker's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. Words cannot express what this means to me."

And then Fox draws his sword, steps up to the piece, and in one smooth cut, slashes the canvas in half.

No one moves for some seconds.

Then, Fox releases a heavy sigh, and sheathes his blade.

Joker blinks. "Okay, so, I kind of thought you were going to react differently."

Fox looks at the ruins of his piece. "It is as you said, Joker. This is _not_ the piece I painted. It is merely Madarame's cognitive representation of my work. And even if it were the true piece, I do not want it, however much it means to me. It was created under false pretenses. Its purity is lost." He shakes his head. "No. From now on, the work I create will spring from my own mind, uncorrupted, my own fingers, my own soul, to serve no ends but the expression of the artistic, be that ugly or beautiful."

Skull frowns. "Wait, so you're still planning on being a painter?"

Fox whirls on him, aghast. "But, of course! Did I ever give you the impression otherwise?"

Skull shrugs. "I dunno. I guess I just figured the whole 'Madarame turned out to be a dick' thing would've turned you off to it."

"Never," Fox replies, his head snapping from side to side. "Art is in my blood. My bones." He lifts his hands skyward. "The muse rides within me, and I am but an instrument to its will. To shake off the mantle of artist would be to sever my very limbs from my form!"

Skull frowns. "Alright dude, my bad."

Fox turns back to Joker. "Thank you very much for bringing me here, Joker. As thanks, I will paint you something."

"Oh, no," Joker replies, and pats the air with his hands. "That's really not necessary."

"I insist! It will be a piece of such magnitude as to stagger your very mind."

Joker sighs. "Okay, cool. Thanks, Fox."

Fox smiles, satisfied, and turns to regard the rest of the gallery's art. "Now then, we must see to the rest."

"Eh?" Joker asks.

"See to the rest?" Mona asks. "What'd you mean?"

"While I am prepared to move on from the work I created under Sensei, I would not presume to speak for his other apprentices. We should abscond with the rest of these paintings to the real world, so that we might return them to their rightful creators." He looks down at the cat. "Mona, I believe there is ample room in your trunk for the lot."

Mona's eyes bulge.

Joker clears his throat. "So, the thing is, I was kind of thinking we were only going to take the one painting. If we take the other twenty, I don't what we're going to do with them. It's going to look pretty weird if we walk down the street with that many paintings between the four of us."

Skull shrugs. "Can't we just hide them in our uniforms?"

Panther's jaw drops. "Hide them in our uniforms? Are you serious? They're _paintings_."

"Moving one wouldn't be a big deal," Joker says. "But this many? It's a lot, Fox."

Fox flings his arms wide, as if to protect the rest of the gallery. "But we must find a way! The others deserve the same choice I was given!"

_This is what I get_ , Joker thinks. _This is what I get for doing something thoughtful_. He pushes his mask up and rubs his eyes with his fingers. "Okay. We need to figure out a way to transport twenty stolen paintings from Madarame's atelier to LeBlanc's attic without raising any kind of suspicion. Any ideas?"

Skull coughs and raises his hand. "I've got an idea."

"We're not hiding them in our uniforms, Skull," Panther snaps.

"It's not that," Skull replies. He runs his eyes over the paintings. "Yeah, they look small enough. I think they'll fit." He looks down at Mona. "If they fit inside you, they'll definitely fit inside hers'."

The other thieves glance at one another. "Hers'?'" Joker asks.

#

"It is _so_ nice to finally meet all of you," Ryuji's mom says, behind the wheel. "Ryu-kun talks about you all so much. He absolutely gushes."

Ryuji groans from the passenger seat. "C'mon Mom, you're embarrassing me."

The thin, bespectacled woman, dark hair cropped short, snorts and waves her hands at him. "Oh, hush. You know you do."

Ann's grin is wide and sinister. "What exactly does _Ryu-kun_ say about us, Miss Sakamoto?"

Ryuji spins around and glares at the blonde girl. "Don't answer her, Mom."

"Oh, he talks about how you're all the best, and how you're all so interesting. Especially you, Akira-kun."

Akira smiles from where he sits in the middle row of the van. "Me, huh?"

Ryuji turns around and faces front, but Akira can see the red in his cheeks under the streetlights as they drive.

"Mmmhmmm," his mother says. "He told me you motivated him to start running again. I swear, that was something I never thought I'd see Ryu-kun do again. It was such a delight when he asked me for money for new running shoes."

"Shouldn't you be, like, focused on driving or something?" Ryuji grumbles.

His mother chuckles, and is silent for a few moments. "So, if I may ask, what exactly are all these paintings for?"

Yusuke, from where he sits, scrunched up next to Akira, stiffens. "Ah, they are for an art project. Your son and our other friends were assisting me in their creation."

"We, um, helped carry all the painting supplies and stuff," Ann puts in. "Yusuke-kun needed a lot of paint."

"I can see that," Ryuji's mother replies. "It looks like quite an assignment. How many paintings are there in total?"

"Eighteen," Akira says. "He's been working on this for a while."

"We were prepping them for transport from my Sensei's atelier, when our previous ride fell through," Yusuke says. "Your availability was quite fortuitous."

"Anything for Ryu-kun and his friends," she says, and pats the wheel of the van. "It's a good thing I had this baby. It's been with me for a good five years, and would you believe it, aside from the regular maintenance costs, has never let me down."

She begins to go into a detailed history of the van's life story, and Akira settles back in his chair. Morgana rolls over in his lap and stares up at him. "This is lame," the cat whispers.

Akira holds a finger up to his lips.

"Seriously," the cat replies. "We're supposed to be notorious thieves, and our getaway car is _Ryuji's mom's van?_ "

"At this point," Akira whispers back, "I'm not going to complain." He glances back at the collection of paintings stacked neatly into van's ample trunk space. "I'm just happy they all fit."

He feels an elbow bump into him. Ann, sitting alongside him, whispers, "Hey?"

Akira frowns. "Yeah?"

She doesn't meet his eyes. "That was a nice thing you did. For Yusuke, I mean."

Akira nods, and steals a glance over at the boy. For whatever reason, Yusuke appears enraptured with Ryuji's mom's story about the van. "Thanks," he tells Ann.

He turns to her then, and for what feels like the first time in a while, _looks_ at her. There are circles under her eyes, deep, even covered with liner or whatever she uses. "Do you think," Ann begins, "that we could, like, talk, when this whole thing with Madarame is done?"

Before Akira can stop himself, he says, "What'd you want to talk about?"

She winces a bit at that. "You know what."

Akira keeps his words behind his teeth for some time, and when he feels ready, replies, "Yeah."

The rest of the ride, they spend in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy.
> 
> Sorry about the delayed post. Class didn't end until 9:30 last night, and then I had an hour's drive home. So I overslept this morning, and had to race to work. The trials of the working man never cease!
> 
> Well, well, well. FIFTY chapters. Not bad, if I do say so myself. I want to thank everyone for sticking with it this long. I really appreciate it. It's been one hell of a ride, and I'm glad to have you all as readers.
> 
> So... why not speculate on the chapter's title? What do you think is in Madarame's storage unit?
> 
> Also, I think I'm going to take a break from posting the week of 1/29. Getting back into the swing of classes is going to be a bit tricky, given that I'm taking more courses than I have before while writing this. I'll be back on 2/5 with another M-W-F update week. I will be posting next week, the week of 1/22. I'll post Monday and Friday. I appreciate your understanding. Thanks again for reading!


	51. Musings of a Crow II

_Please stop struggling. It won't make a difference. Though, I suppose that sounds clichéd. What else are you supposed to do, with the noose around your neck?_

_Forgive my indulgences. I'm rarely given the chance to be candid. We've all night. Why not delay the inevitable a bit?_

_Tell me, why did you choose the path you did? I find the subject of motivation endlessly fascinating._

_Heh._

_Yes, it must be difficult to speak. Let me loosen that for you. Better?_

_Really? Don't beg. You should've seen this coming. Be quiet. Seriously. Be quiet._

_Be. Quiet._

_Better. Why did you become what you are? I want to know._

_That's not an answer. That's another cliché. There's nothing behind it. Just motion. Perpetual motion. Don't tell me that's all you are._

_What of this? This trinket? The whole foundation for this place. Come on._

_Give me_ something _._

_Just like everyone else, then. My fault for hoping for more. It's all the people. Just going and going and going. Spinning out of control. Writhing. No reason. No higher purpose. I should know._

_We should get on with it. For my mental hygiene._

_Stay still. No. That's struggling. I just told you to stay still._

_Stay still and look at me._

_Look at me._

_Look._

_Good. Now, really look at me. That's it. That's it. Now, I want you to tell me something. What are you afraid of?_

_What are you afraid of, Kobayakawa?_


	52. Copycats

5/27

A thump, and Akira's eyes shoot open. He sits up, and Morgana, draped across his chest, topples onto the floor, and wakes with a yowl.

He turns and finds Yusuke at his desk, standing, gloved hands raised in the air, fingers splayed. "They are _complete_ ," he states.

Akira shakes the fog from his mind. "Oh man, I'm sorry. I must've fallen asleep."

"Yes, I noted your snoring some time ago," Yusuke says, and folds his arms across his chest.

"I don't snore," Akira protests. He glances down at Morgana. "Do I?"

"Oh yeah," the cat replies, licking his paw and wiping it over his face. "Like, all the time. I usually just hit you a few times until you stop. Seriously though, you might want to get that checked out. Sleep apnea is no joke, from what I've heard."

Akira's eyes narrow. "You've heard of sleep apnea?"

"Hey, I hear things. I keep my ears peeled."

"It's eyes, and-"

"Pardon me," Yusuke interrupts. "But as I stated earlier, I have finished my assigned task."

Akira pushes himself off the couch, and rubs his shoulder. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but watching Yusuke work had been so... _exhausting_.

He walks over and looks down at the desk. "Whoa," he says.

It is covered with calling cards, dozens and dozens of them. Stylized in red and black, each card holds a single image of a crimson top hat, beneath which fire burns. In blocky English letters, he reads, "'Take Your Heart.'" He smiles at Yusuke, and pats him on the back. "They're perfect."

Yusuke nods. "Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to descend into the void." He walks past Akira, and plops down on the couch. In a moment, his eyes are shut, and his breathing becomes slow and regular.

"Whoa," Morgana says, staring at him. "Is he asleep, already?"

Akira pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. "Damn. It's no wonder. He was up the whole night making these." Carefully, Akira reaches into his desk and pulls out another pair of gloves. He begins to collect each calling card, and stacks them atop one another, making sure to keep his hair away from them. "So," he says. "Are you ready for your mission?"

Morgana beams up at him. "After the storage unit yesterday, this'll be easy!"

"Sure about that?" Akira asks.

"Do you doubt my skills?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's not that. It's just..." He sighs. "Yesterday was risky. It worked, but it was risky. I don't want to see you hurt."

"Risky?" Morgana asks, and hops up onto first the chair, and then the desk. "It was your plan, Akira."

"I know, I know," Akira replies. "Just, be careful today, okay?"

Morgana rolls his eyes. "You know, for a daring Gentleman Thief, you worry way too much."

"Right," Akira grumbles, and starts to place the cards in a pouch. "Because we've _never_ had anything we've needed to worry about."

#

Madarame paces the office. "No, _no_. You're not _listening_ to me. Put your boss on!"

"I told you," comes the voice on the other end. "He's not here. I will relay your message if-"

"Do you understand what this all means? Do you? Someone knows about the storage unit. Someone is talking to _someone_ and that someone needs to be held accountable."

"Would that be the first someone? Or the second someone?" There's an amused lilt to the voice on the phone.

"Is this funny?" Madarame shouts. "This concerns your business as well as mine. Don't you care? Don't you care that someone in your organization is sharing information about the storage units?"

"Listen, man. You need to calm down. When my boss gets back, he's going to talk to you, and you're going to have to be a lot calmer than you are right now. Hysterics aren't going to get us anywhere."

"This isn't hysteria," Madarame squeals. "This is figuring out where your _leak_ is."

There's a knock on the office door.

"Not now," Madarame shouts at it. He turns his attention back to the phone. "I need to speak with him. I need to make him understand. If I have to move things out of-"

"Whoa, whoa," the voice says. "Move things? That's a big no-go there, buddy. You move things when we tell you it's okay to move things, not before. Never before."

"But if its location has been leaked and-" He's cut off by another knock at the door. "Goddammit! I said, 'Not now!'"

"M-Madarame-sama?" Comes a voice on the other side of the door. "It's urgent, I'm afraid."

He growls and shouts into the phone. "Hold on." Then he marches to the door, yanks it open and glares at the young gallery attendant on the other side. " _What?_ "

The young man pales, and with trembling hands, holds out a small, red and black card towards him. "Th-this was found outside. There's more of them. A lot more, actually."

"The hell?" Madarame asks, and snatches it out of his hands.

He reads it, and his eyes widen. He shuts the door on the young attendant without saying a word, and lifts the phone back up to his ear. "I need to talk to him. Please. There's been a... um, complication."

#

When Makoto walks into the diner and spies Haru sitting at their usual table, she feels as if she's released a long breath held too long. She storms across the diner's floor, and when Haru sees her coming, the girl stands up and says, "I'm sorry Mako-chan, I-" but she can't finish because Makoto hugs her.

"Are you okay?" Makoto asks, without breaking the hug. "Are you okay?"

"Um," Haru replies, a light quiver in her voice. "Yes, Mako-chan. I am." Makoto holds on. "Um," Haru continues. "Not that I don't appreciate this, but people are staring."

"Oh," Makoto says, and releases her. Haru's face is beet red, and her own cheeks feel hot as well. "You weren't in school yesterday or today," she blurts. "I didn't know what had happened."

Haru gestures the seat across from her and Makoto sits. Haru joins her. "I'm sorry," Haru replies, with a soft shake of her head. "Things just got out of control, and I didn't know what to do, and I never meant to make you worry. After what you saw, I just felt like I couldn't face you and-"

Makoto leans over the table towards her. "Haru," she says. Haru lifts her eyes to stare into hers. "Who _was_ that man?"

Haru sighs, and is silent for a few moments. Then, "His name is Sugimura. Rin Sugimura. And, well, he's my fiancé."

Makoto isn't sure what keeps her eyes locked in her head. "Fiancé?" She spits. "That... that _asshole?_ "

Haru winces a bit, but nods. "Yes. It's all been arranged by our respective families. It makes sense, in a way. My family has pull in the business world. The Sugimura's are influential in the political world. So..." instead of continuing on, Haru just slowly brings her hands together until they clasp one another.

Makoto has of course heard of this kind of thing before. It isn't uncommon. Sae had tossed around the idea of finding a match for Makoto a year or so back, but nothing had ever come of it. She's heard the wealthy and influential play these kind of games with one another, but to actually see it in reality, writ across the face of her friend?

Makoto shakes her head. "I... Haru, I'm sorry. I'm at a loss."

Haru smiles. "I know. It's not ideal. But it's the hand I've been dealt." And she shrugs her shoulders, and Makoto's heart breaks a bit more.

So, she shakes her head again. With more force this time. "No. We've got to do something. You can't marry that jerk. We're getting you out of it."

Haru's eyes widen in surprise. "I can't, Mako-chan. It's pretty much official at this point. It won't be finalized for another few months, but this is how it's going to be."

"Unacceptable," Makoto says, frowning. She thinks. "My sister knows people in the law. Maybe we can-"

"Makoto," Haru says, cutting through her train of thought. "Please. Enough." Makoto watches her friend as her eyes get all misty. "I appreciate this. I do. But can we just drop it? Can we just pretend that it didn't happen? I don't want to think about this anymore than I have to, and I don't want the last few months I've got left before I have to marry him to be spent trying to get out of the whole thing!" Haru's voice rises as she speaks, and at the last word it nearly reaches a shout. She casts a nervous glance around to the other patrons, and whispers, "I'm sorry, but can we please just go back to the way things were? I convinced him to let that thing that happened with you go. I just don't want to think about this anymore. Please?"

And Makoto almost caves. Almost relents. She almost lies and tells Haru that she'll drop it. That things can return to the way they were. She opens her mouth to do so, and then she shuts it again.

When she opens it next, she says, "No." Haru blinks. "No, I'm not going to lie. I'm not okay with this. I'm not going to accept this. I'm not going to let you marry that jerk. You're my best friend, and I'm not going to just watch this happen to you." It doesn't take long to realize what she's said. When she tries to find her way out the hole, all she manages is, "Um... you see, I, uh-"

And then Haru, eyes wide, a big smile on her face, asks, "I'm your best friend?" Her voice is small, but delighted.

Makoto's mind works overtime. She had not intended to admit that. She tries to figure out a way of rephrasing, but eventually just stops, blushes and says, "Well, of course. Who else am I going to investigate magical thieves with?"

Haru beams. "So you admit they must be magic!"

Makoto rolls her eyes. "I will admit to the remote possibility of it. Nothing more."

The two girls look at each other, and both start to laugh. It grows and grows, and before long the two can't stop.

"Thank you, Mako-chan," Haru replies, once she can.

Makoto nods. "I'm serious, you know. We're going to find a way to get you out of this." When Haru opens her mouth to protest, Makoto states, "We will."

Haru doesn't say anything for a time, then she whispers, "Alright. But what about-"

"The Phantom Thieves?" Comes a voice.

Both girls blink, and look over at the table next to them. Two older girls sit there, staring at their phones. One looks up at the other and says, "Is this for real? This is like, really close by!"

The other girl shakes her head. "It's gotta be, right? They've struck again."

Around the diner, the people, be they older or younger, take their phones out, and begin little whispered conversations amongst themselves. Makoto hears the words, "Phantom Thieves," and "Calling Card," again and again. Then, people start to leave. First, it's the two girls. Then, an older couple near the back.

"What's going on?" Haru asks.

"I don't know," Makoto replies. She looks out the diner’s window. The typically crowded Tokyo streets are just that, crowded. But there's an energy to their movement, and they all seem to be heading in one direction, looks of wonder and excitement mixed across their faces.

"Come on," Makoto says, and stands. Haru follows suit and the two girls dash out of the diner and join the throng of people as they slide forward, down the road.

They wind their way through the street, and find themselves in a huge crowd outside an art exhibit. Makoto and Haru try to peek over the heads of the people in front of them, but to no avail. "Excuse me," Makoto says, tapping the man in front of her on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

He flashes her a smile. "It's those Phantom Thieves. They just left a calling card for Madarame!"

Makoto blinks and searches her memory. "The painter?" The man nods.

Haru straightens. "My father has a piece of Madarame's in our study. He's famous worldwide!"

The man turns his attention away, and Makoto frowns. "Come on," she says, and grabs Haru's hand. Together, they start to cut their way through the crowd.

It takes a few minutes before they're able to reach the front, and they spy a large line of police tape, and scattered across the front of the exhibit, are many black and red cards. Makoto squints, trying to read them from a distance.

"Look, Mako-chan," Haru says, and points at a second story window. It's a small ledge, and on it, sits another batch of the cards. The window next to it, contains a batch as well. Makoto lets her eyes travel across the entire building’s façade. Every ledge, every sill, contains a small pile of the Calling Cards. With every breeze of the wind, more scatter into the air and blow out into the crowd. People laugh and reach and jump for them when they get close.

Makoto's eyes narrow. "You know, that's a pretty narrow ledge. I don't think a person could get up there."

Haru nods. "But a cat?"

The two girls look at each other. "That's a different story."

#

Junichiro Maki runs his eyes over the woman sitting next to him one more time, sighs, and takes another sip of his drink.

She turns to him, _finally_ , and says, "Is there a reason you keep doing that?"

He fixes a partially confused look on his face and replies, "Sorry, doing what?"

"That sighing," she replies. She doesn't sound upset by it.

"Oh," Juni says, and shakes his head. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was being so obnoxious about it." He offers a weak smile, shrugs, and says, "But hey, if you can't sigh in a bar, where can you?"

She frowns, and averts her gaze, so he can tell she's not apologetic, but regrets snapping at him. "Well, I suppose you're right."

He looks past her, and feigns surprise at the lack of someone next to her. "You're alone?"

Her turn to shrug. "I just came for a drink."

He smiles. "And I'll drink to that." He lifts his drink and angles the lip towards her. She smiles a bit, takes up her own, and they clink glasses. He nods at her business attire. "Did you just get off work?"

"I did. And in," she checks her watch, "twelve hours, I've got to get right back there." She's young then. Not used to the daily slog. He can work with that.

He brushes some of his hair out of his eyes. "What'd you do?"

"Oh, I work for Okumura Foods."

He smiles. "Last time I checked, Big Bang Burger waitresses don't wear clothes like that."

She rolls her eyes. "No, smart guy. I work in the corporate office. In accounting."

"Really?" He asks, turning to her.

She blinks. "I have to say, telling a guy that I'm in accounting rarely gets _that_ kind of response."

He allows a faint bit of color into his cheeks. "Oh, well, you see, I just love numbers." He chuckles and pats the air with his hands. "I know that sounds weird, but I do."

She cocks an eyebrow at her. "What do you do, exactly?"

"Actually," he says, and pretends to be embarrassed. "I do consulting work. Primarily with numbers. Mostly for tech companies. Biopharma guys, and whatnot. I come in, talk about algorithms for an hour, and a bunch of guys who have no idea what I'm talking about kind of nod their heads and act like they do."

"And people pay you for that?" She asks, grinning.

He lets out a nervous laugh. "That they do. But, then again, that's why I'm here. I'm tired of doing it. Tired of people who don't get it. My buddy and I, we went to college together, we're actually talking about setting up our own company."

She blinks. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says, getting into it. "See, what we're looking to do is-" A hand clamps down on his shoulder. He twists without thinking about it, and lifts the hand away without even leaving his chair. He turns to face his attacker with something approaching a snarl, and then sees who it is.

A slight, middle aged man with chestnut hair, a face of all angles, and a crew cut. "Juni," he says. "We need to talk."

He turns back to the woman. "Speak of the devil, here he is! I'm so sorry, but what you excuse me for a moment?"

She nods, and he stands, patting his friend on the back. "Buddy," he says, friendly. "Good to see you."

"We need to talk," Akio reiterates. They walk towards a booth near the edge of the bar.

When they're both seated across from one another, Junichiro folds his hands atop one another, leans forward, and asks, "What are you doing here, Aki? You know how we do this."

"Something's happened."

Juni sighs, drops the last vestiges of the act, and sprawls himself across his seat. A strand of hair falls across his face. It's jet black, and actually touched up with some dye, but he'd never admit that. "Fine. What's so dire?"

Aki leans forward himself. "I'm passing you something under the table."

Juni steals a peek. In his left hand, Aki is holding out small card towards him. He snatches it and brings it to his lap. "What's this?" He asks.

"Just _read_ it."

Juni rolls his eyes. "Take your heart? Aki, you know I’m strictly a ladies’ man."

"Turn it over, genius," Aki growls.

He does, sees the words, and begins to read.

_Sir Ichiryusai Madarame, the talentless, greedy, exploiter: You're finished. We know about the droves of students you've turned to the streets, the hordes of children who adored you that you betrayed. We know you've done nothing but pilfer and plagiarize. No longer will innocents feed the machine of your greed. Tomorrow, you will confess to your sins to the world, because we will have stolen your twisted desires straight out of your heart. See you soon. Yours, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_.

Juni reads it, then reads it again, and again.

He looks up at Aki and asks, "What the fuck am I reading?"

"What it looks like," Aki replies. "A Calling Card."

Juni groans and leans back in his chair. "You've got to be kidding me." Then, he stiffens. "I've heard that name before. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts."

Aki nods. "They were on the news recently. There was an asshole gym teacher or something over at Shujin Academy, in Aoyome-Itchoma. These calling cards showed up one day, and the next thing you know, the guy's on stage at a school assembly, blubbering about how he raped some poor kid, and beat up a bunch of students."

Juni darts his eyes towards the table top, indicating the card below it. "And this? Are these the same guys? They go from gym teacher to world famous artist?"

Aki shrugs. "Don't know. At first, I figured it was some kind of student revenge thing, but now? Who can say?”

Juni taps the card in his hand. "Where was this?"

"Outside Madarame's exhibit. There were a bunch of them. Some have already gotten out and circulated online."

Juni's eyes narrow. "It said he was a plagiarist."

"I caught that."

"You think they're talking about the _Sayuri’_ s?"

"Again, don't know. But they could be. I'm having Dunk look over the footage. See if we missed anything." Aki frowns. "This could just be a coincidence."

Juni chuckles. "A coincidence? Seriously? Aki, how long have we been doing this?"

Aki sighs. "Long enough to know coincidences never work in our favor."

Juni spreads his hands. "Precisely."

He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. _Breathe it in_ , he thinks, and drifts off to his own little world. _Breathe it in_.

He sits there for a few moments, thinking. Then he shrugs, opens his eyes, and says, "Call everyone and let them know it's off."

Aki's mouth drops open. "Off? As in _off_?"

"Yes, the opposite of on."

"We're close, Juni. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Regardless, we'd be laughing stocks." He taps the card one more time. "How would it look, if _one day_ after the Phantom Thieves send Madarame their little calling card, we send him ours as well?" He shakes his head. "Nope. It's off. They struck first, called dibs. Let's let them run it. See how they do." He smirks. "I'm interested to see if these Phantom Thieves can pull this off. Getting someone to confess their own sins? Quite the heist."

Aki sighs and stands. "I'll let the others know. They won't be happy."

Juni smiles and lifts up his drink. "They know where to find me."

Aki nods and walks out of the bar.

Junichiro Maki, the leader of Tatterdemalion, takes another sip of his drink. "Alright, Phantom Thieves. Let's see what you've got."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys enjoy yesterday's little thing? Turns out I spelled 'Kobayakawa' wrong, which I suppose takes some of the oomph out of the big reveal, lol. I'll have to fix that. Anyway, looks like the PTs have some new folks to contend with! Will they be able to steal Madarame's heart? What will Makoto and Haru do about Sugimura? What's up with Tatterdemalion?
> 
> I suppose you'll just have to keep reading. ;)
> 
> Just a reminder, next week, the week of 1/29, I'll be going on a brief hiatus. Probably for one week, definitely not more than two. Grad school, man. Ugh. But, rest assured, Friday's chapter will go up without a hitch. And, of course, Crimson will continue.
> 
> As always, thank you very much for reading!


	53. Nothing Personal

5/28

Madarame wakes with a jolt to the sound of his phone vibrating. He blinks at the faint rays of morning peeking through the shades of the office. _Did I fall asleep?_

He checks the time on his phone. The last he can remember, it had been sometime after two in the morning. He'd spent the entire day trying to mitigate the Calling Card disaster, trying to figure out what to tell the multitudes of reporters and people calling him, begging him to explain the context of the card's message.

Exhaustion still sits heavy in him, and when he answers the phone, he doesn't bother to check the number. "Hello?"

"Hold," the voice on the other end says.

Madarame is about to voice a protest, but then another man picks up the phone, and speaks in a voice that he remembers quite well.

"What have you done, Madarame?" The smooth sounding man asks.

Madarame tries to shake the tiredness from his skull and _focus_. "Wh-what do you mean? I spoke to you about the Calling Card yesterday, and I-"

"I'm _not_ talking about the Calling Card, old man." There's a pause. "Do you not know?" There's surprise there.

"Know what?"

"Are you by a computer?"

Madarame turns to the office computer, black screened and silent. "Yes."

"Turn it on. Get online. Now."

Madarame hastens to do so, but keeps the phone to his ear. He can hear the man's low breathing through the receiver, and it spurs him on, even as his hands shakes as he turns the system on, take the mouse, move the cursor to the right icon, and double click. "What am I looking for?"

"Yourself."

"What?"

"Search for yourself, Madarame. The thing I want you to see is at the top of any search page."

Madarame types his name into a search engine, and the first result makes his eyes widen. "Wh-what is this?"

"You tell me."

It's a link to blog article. The site's name is 'Devil's Dispatch,' which is something Madarame has never heard of before. Rather, the title of the article is what incenses him.

_'The Great_ Sayuri _Scam.'_

Madarame clicks through. "No," he says, as he begins to read. "No, this isn't possible."

The article is short, it asks more questions than answers them, but its implications are strong.

And then there are the photos.

A series of photographs that appear to have been taken in quick succession. One of the shut door of his unit at Natsuki Storage. One of Madarame appearing in the frame, keycard in hand. One of Madarame swiping it, and another of Madarame punching in his code. Then, the door is open, its contents splayed for the lens to see.

The _Sayuri_ 's.

You can't see them from the camera's angle. There are actually many more. But the camera has enough resolution, to spy the ones aligned across the back of the storage unit. There're ten in full focus, with the edges of others alongside them.

The blog post asks a few simple questions. If the _Sayuri_ was stolen, why does Madarame have a whole storage unit filled with reproductions? Is he selling them under false pretenses? Is he scamming art collectors around the world? Was the original even stolen in the first place, or was it ‘lost’ in order to cook up this scam? The article is very accusatory, but it doesn't outright make any claims. It simply states the facts.

Of course, the answer to all its questions, is ‘yes.’

"This can't be," Madarame says. "How... how did they get this?"

"Did you bring a _camera_ into my storage facility, Madarame?" The voice asks. Madarame shifts at the sudden voice. He had almost forgotten he was on the phone with someone.

"N-no! They must've hacked your security," Madarame says. "Gotten into your cameras and-"

"We don't _have_ cameras, Madarame."

He shakes his head, even though there's no one to see it. "I-I don't... who's seen this?"

"It went viral about two hours ago. Along with the timing of the Calling Card, it would seem like you’re the man of the hour."

"We have to figure a way out of this," Madarame says. "We have to meet and think and-"

There's silence on the line. Then, "Yeah. You’re right. We're in this together, after all."

"That's right," Madarame says, a grin splayed across his face. "That's right, we are. We can figure this out. We can fix it. We can. I know we can."

There's a deep sigh from the other end. "Sit tight. We'll be in contact."

The line goes dead.

Madarame sets the phone down, and stares at the photo of himself, his back to the camera, staring at the _Sayuri_ 's.

"I can fix this," he says, as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. "I can fix this."

The gallery's office suddenly feels very small.

#

Madarame's Treasure Room is an ornate cross between a CEO's office, and a corporate lounge. Near the entrance, sit a number of easels with paint cans strewn about beneath them. Along the far wall are enormous windows looking out onto the Tokyo skyline. A few couches lay scattered around, atop an expensive looking rug with an elaborate weave. At the far end of the room is a wide wooden desk, the kind one would expect an executive to have. Behind this desk, as they had discovered the other day, hung the Treasure, then a kaleidoscopic blob.

It does not hang there any longer.

When the Phantom Thieves burst into Madarame's office, they find the man seated, not in a chair, but on the desk itself, his feet dangling just off the floor. His shadow is attired in the same suit, his hair is slicked back, and his eyes are golden. He holds a portrait in his hand, and stares at it, a sad look on his face.

He spares them a glance when they enter, and says, "This is all your fault, Yusuke."

"Careful guys," Mona hisses. "Remember, he's the Palace's ruler. He's a lot more powerful than those other shadows."

The others draw their weapons, but Yusuke steps forward. "Sensei," he says, his voice low. "This end is inevitable. Please, give us the Treasure, and it will all be over."

Madarame just shakes his head, and keeps his eyes on the painting. "This is all your fault. But I can fix it. I know I can fix it. If they just give me time."

"'They?'" Joker asks, glancing at Skull, who shrugs.

"Sensei," Yusuke says again, and steps forward. "Please. Enough." He extends a hand, palm up. "Give it to us."

"Do you want to see it?" Madarame asks. Without waiting for a response, he turns the painting over in his hands.

"It's..." Yusuke whispers. "The _Sayuri_."

Panther frowns. "It's different though. Different than all the ones in the storage unit."

Fox nods. "That's true." His eyes narrow. "Tell me, Sensei, why is there a baby in the corner of this iteration?"

Joker stares at the painting. It's true that it strongly resembles the _Sayuri_ , but Fox is right. There's a bundled up baby in the corner, held by the woman - the subject - in her arms. Where, in the real world, the woman stares only at some tree branch, here she stares directly into the child's eyes, a small smile on her face.

Madarame's voice, when he answers, is small. "It's you."

Silence.

Madarame draws one finger down the length of the painting, and taps the baby. "It's you," he repeats, as if they hadn't heard him.

"I see," Fox replies. "The baby is supposed to represent the whole of humanity. The entirety of our nascent time on this planet, and the woman is meant to represent the whole of the universe, swaddling us in-"

"Yusuke," Madarame cuts in. "Yusuke, it's _you_. And this," he moves his hand up to the woman. "Is her."

Joker takes a step towards his friend. "Fox?"

The boy's hands tremble. "Elaborate," he demands, an edge to his voice. "Explain what you mean."

Madarame sighs. Then, he shrugs. "I didn't paint the _Sayuri_. Chisako did."

Fox blinks. "My mother?"

Madarame nods. He wears a small smile. "Chisako painted the _Sayuri_. And then she died."

Fox dashes forward, the blade leaving his scabbard.

"Dude, wait!" Skull screams, but it is too late. Fox brings his blade down towards Madarame's head, but with a flick of his former Sensei’s wrist, the Thief is thrown back across the length of the room, and crashes into the back wall. The easels splinter and the paint cans go flying.

"Fox!" Panther calls.

"Shit!" Joker says and turns to him. He runs towards his fallen friend, even as he hears Madarame behind him.

"Why don't you get it? This is how the world works. No one cares about art, not really. They care about the prestige it endows and the money it brings in. Expression, self-fulfillment, these things don't mean anything."

Joker slides up to where Fox lays, and grabs his arm. "Are you okay?"

Fox opens his eyes, and Jokers sees a fire there only rarely glimpsed. With a growl, Fox pushes himself to his feet. "You're wrong. Perhaps every piece of art cannot change the world, cannot make it a better. But art has that capacity. It has that potential. It always has."

Madarame spreads his hands. "Maybe once upon a time, Yusuke. But the world has gotten too saturated. Too big. Too full. Too loud. Nothing worth anything can cut through the noise. You can paint shit and if the right blog highlights it, people will pay millions for it. It's ludicrous. It's nonsense. It's madness." His smile grows wide. "It's business."

Madarame begins to convulse. "Yes, business. And I can fix it. I can make it right. All I have to do, is _kill you kids_." His voice rises as he speaks, until it becomes a blabbering squeal. He collapses onto the floor and bursts, and the vile black that spills from him begins to expand towards the too high ceilings.

Joker turns to Fox. "You ready for this?"

"Fear not," Fox replies, straightening. "For this morning, I took _vitamins_!"

An awful groan rises from the black, and it coalesces into four paintings, separated, but connected by a series of spiked, whirling gears. Two of the paintings depict swiveling, wide eyes. One details a shriveled, yellowed nose, dripping the remains of black like oiled snot. The last is a stretched, smiling mouth with jagged, bleached white teeth. The room drowns in the smell of rotten paper and metal splinters. The _whirr_ of the gears rises in pitch, and the paintings dart about, supplanting one another. They dart about, always so close to making a whole face, but never enough to be more than caricature. The mouth rises above the eyes, the nose spins in its own place. The gears shift and eyes stack atop one another like pallets.

The gears have no purchase, no footing. They simply hang, suspended by nothing, controlling the paintings by their own, mad design.

A voice crackles like an intercom, "I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE WHAT I HAVE EARNED!"

Skull scowls. "You ain't earned shit, asshole." His mask vanishes in a puff of blue. "Take em' down, Captain!"

The skeleton materializes and sails towards the paintings, a bolt of electricity charging in its cannon. It aims down at the leftmost eye, and as it does so, the nose reverts it position, and a thick stream of steam hisses out of it. Captain Kidd fires, and the electric bolt strikes the smoke-like substance. The explosion's shockwave hits the Captain and sends him backward, Skull cringing. "The hell?"

Panther and Fox rush forward, weapons at the ready. They crouch, side by side, and fire upon the nose with their rifles. The mouth rises, a sick smile splayed across it, and the bullets clatter into the teeth, and fall, harmless, back to the floor.

"Let's go, Zorro," Mona calls, and his Persona rises above him. A massive gust of wind slams into the mouth, and it switches to a scowl, until the right eye lowers itself to Mona's level and shoots a bolt of electricity into the cat. Mona groans in pain and drops to his knees.

Skull runs up alongside Joker. "Dude, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," Joker says, staring. "It's like, the different paintings are blocking us whenever we attack one of them.

"How they hell can they tell? Only two of em are eyes!"

"I don't know," Joker spits. "Does any of this shit make sense?"

#

The fight drags on. Mona and Panther fire off Dia after Dia, as the group takes more hits. No matter how they angle their attacks, no matter how strong each assault, the paintings seem to cover for one another. The gears spin and spin and the paintings shift and fire back.

Joker yanks another of Takemi's medicines from his jacket and downs it. He feels the pain in his arm lessen. One of the painting's edges had come down on it earlier.

He crouches behind one of the lounge's couches, with Panther alongside him.

"You ready?" He asks. She nods. Joker turns and shouts, "Now, Fox!"

From where he hides near the easels, Fox stands and hooks his sword into the paint cans, and charges forward. With a cry, he hurls them, as one, towards the terrible amalgamation of Madarame. They scatter and explode upon striking him, and the paintings shudder and sputter in confusion.

"Go, go," Joker shouts, and the Phantom Thieves charge. They dart towards the paintings, then duck beneath them. The gears. "Hit them with everything!"

The Phantom Thieves summon their Personas and assault the gears.

Skull’s Captain calls down a lightning storm.

Mona’s Zorro swings its sword, and a hale of wind buffets them.

Panther’s Carmen stomps the ground, and pillars of flame rise to engulf them.

Fox’s Goemon summons an ice storm that sends sharp shards piercing into the metal.

And Joker calls forth Oberon, who launches himself forth with a Heat Wave attack, which slams into the gears, which were what the paintings were truly protecting, and shatter them.

The gears falls away in a hiss of black, and the paintings linger in the air for a single moment before they too drop. They, on the other hand, do not vanish, but land on the ground, and begin to twitch.

Joker draws his knife, and stabs it into the back of the mouth's piece. The others pulls their weapons and begin to swing, to bludgeon, to stab and slice at the things on the floor.

It is messy work.

But then it ends. The paintings burst into ash, and the Thieves dart away, as the cloud settles.

The five, breath coming in gasps, stare at one another. “That’s it, right?” Panther asks. “We got him?”

A whimper escapes the pile.

The shadow of Madarame crawls from the ashes. His hair hangs in his face. His suit is in tatters. His skin is stained with the ash he rises from.

Before Joker can collect himself, Fox rushes past him, sword drawn.

Fox brings the blade down to Madarame's neck, and his mask vanishes as Goemon rises up behind him, the Persona's glare leveled against Madarame. The air shivers with a chill, and Joker sees frost begin to coat the room’s windows.

"Speak," Fox growls. "I want to know the truth. If my mother truly painted the _Sayuri,_ why do you claim it as your own?"

Madarame holds up a hand. "P-please, I-"

"Speak!"

"I just wanted to show it to the world. I just wanted to-"

"You're a liar," Fox shouts. "All you've ever done is _lie_. Tell me the truth, why did you steal it? Why?"

"Because I knew!" Madarame screams.

Fox blinks. "Knew what?"

Madarame's mouth works in a few, silent circuits before he can speak again. "She called me over one day. Said she wanted me to see something special. She'd only been my apprentice for a short time, and I'd never heard her like that.

"I entered her apartment, and she showed it to me. And I just knew.” His face falls. His eyes dim. “I knew that _nothing_ I would create would ever compare. Do you have any idea what that's like? To _work_ , to sweat, bleed and endeavor for something your whole life? And then, a single glimpse, _one look_ , and it’s enough to know you’ll never amount to your own dreams?” Tears well and river their way down his face. “It shattered me, Yusuke. I couldn’t believe it. The _Sayuri_ was everything I had ever wanted to paint. For years, I’d tried to create it. And that afternoon, I knew I never would. Never could.”

Madarame shuts his eyes, but Fox presses the blade harder against his throat. “What _happened_?”

"Your mother, Chisako, she kept talking about it. She did it all in one night. Can you believe that? She did that," and he nods to where the _Sayuri_ lays flat on the ground, "in _one_ _night_. She was so excited and just kept going and going, and then she wasn't talking anymore. And then, she collapsed, and started shaking."

"No," Fox says, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry."

"No. Even you… even after _everything_ …"

"I wanted to help her," Madarame blurts. "I wanted to, but I just froze. I don't know why. But, she was shaking and shuddering and… I just, I couldn't move, Yusuke! But then she was gone and I didn’t know what to do. I just took the painting, and I was going to leave, or I was going to call an ambulance, I don't know!"

Fox's hands curl tighter around the blade. "You killed my mother, for a _painting_?"

Madarame breaks down into sobs. "I don't know. I don't know, I swear. God Above, I hope not. I don’t _remember!_ And then..."

"And then, _what_?" Fox asks.

"I’m sorry..."

“ _And then, what?”_ Fox demands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he moans. “It just became easier, you see? It just became easier after a while. To distance myself. To take the work. To take the money. I felt sick about it at first, I really did. I _really_ did. But then, it just got easier. And it kept getting easier.”

There is a storm on Fox’s face. Joker walks up behind him. “If you kill him, he’ll die in real life.”

His words are stones. "Are you saying I shouldn't?"

“I’m not saying anything, Fox,” Joker says. “It’s your decision. But I think the world deserves to hear the truth from his mouth.”

Fox nods. “I don’t disagree. But I shall not lie to you. I want to watch his head, roll.”

Madarame shakes his head. “Forgive me, Yusuke. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

With one smooth motion, Fox draws his blade away, and sheathes it. “But he has not wronged only me. There are many he has tossed aside over the years. They all deserve the truth. We all deserve recompense.” He steps away from them and walks to the _Sayuri_. He lifts it, turns it around until he’s staring at the woman. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I let him get away with it for so long.”

Panther wipes her eyes. “Yusuke, it’s not your fault.”

Fox ignores her. “I’m sorry I let him hurt more people.” His hands tighten on the painting’s frame. “But he’s not going to hurt anyone else.” Fox turns and stares at Madarame. “Where is the real _Sayuri_?”

Madarame’s gaze falls. “It’s gone. I… I burned it. When I started making the copies. That way, it couldn’t be traced.”

A cruel smile works itself across Fox’s face. “You burned it. Of course you did.” He nods. “Of course you did. And that’s why you kept the storage unit in my mother’s name.”

Madarame’s nod is frantic. “I’ve always wanted to apologize to her, but I couldn’t.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Skull spits, and points at Fox. “You wanted to apologize to her, so you got her son expelled and threw him into the street?”

Madarame doesn’t reply.

Fox turns his whole body to face him. “You’re going to go back now, Sensei. You’re going to go back to the real world, and you’re going to confess all your crimes. You’re going to give the names of all your apprentices, and you’re going to do right by them. You’re going to contact the Principal at my school, and tell him you lied. You’re going to tell everyone the truth about the _Sayuri_ , and your little scam. You’re going to come clean about everything.”

There’s a hitch of fear in his voice, when Madarame says, “Everything?”

Fox nods. “Everything.”

The anguish leaves Madarame’s face, and he begins to glow. “V-very well. You’re right. I will confess my sins. I will make things right.” As he fades, Madarame looks at Fox one last time. “I’m sorry, my boy. Thank you.”

And then he is gone.

The Thieves stand and stare at the spot he occupied. “I-” Fox starts.

Then, the building begins to shake. “Crap,” Mona shouts. “The Palace is collapsing. We’ve gotta go!”

Fox clutches the _Sayuri_ to his chest. “Very well, let us be off!”

#

_There's no other choice_.

Madarame sits in the gallery's office. Sweat drenches his robes, but he doesn't feel it. His mind had been racing, but it's calm now. Quiet. Still. Resolute.

_There's no other choice._

It's a relief, in a way. To have all your options shrink bit by bit until there's only one clear path forward.

_I've got to give them Yusuke._

That's the only thing he can do. Hand Yusuke Kitagawa over to those soft-spoken, deadly men. They can make him talk. And then everything can go back. He can weather this storm.

His phone rings again, but he ignores it. Everyone's been calling him. All day.

He doesn't know what it's about anymore. The Calling Card. The _Sayuri_ scam. He just doesn't know. People were skewering him, online. Screeching at him. Raging at him.

It was all so ridiculous. What proof did they have? A few photos from some anonymous blog? The assurance of the 'Phantom Thieves?' None of it meant anything.

_So why are they all losing their minds at me?_

He shakes his head.

_No. Focus_. He knows what he has to do. Hand Yusuke over to his 'third favorite customer.' He can issue a statement. He can clear the air. People will believe him.

People will believe him.

They'll believe him.

And Yusuke Kitagawa?

Well, he'd...

He'd...

He remembers.

_"It was just like you said," Chisako says. "Just like you said. The Muse, it got_ into _me somehow, and I just kept going and going and going. All night."_

_"You did this?" He asks, and points to the piece. "In one night?"_

_"Uh-huh, can you believe it? It's incredible right? It's incredible. Incredible. And it's all because of you. All... Madarame-sensei? Why are you crying?"_

_Madarame reaches up and wipes his eyes. "It's nothing, my dear. Nothing at all. This is marvelous. Otherworldly." He smiles. "You, Chisako, are_ brilliant _."_

_And her smile is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. And then her eyes glaze over. And then she is falling. And then her head hits the side of the table. And then she's on the ground. And then she's convulsing._

He remembers.

He remembers his limbs were like ice. The breath held in his lungs like poison.

He remembers her wide, empty eyes. Remembers the spittle, still wet on her lips. He remembers staring at her, and then falling to her knees. He remembers begging her to wake up. To get up. To blink.

To do _something_.

He remembers the shame as it clawed at his insides.

_Leave_ , his mind had screamed. _Leave. Get out of here. Get out now. If someone finds you here, it'll all be over!_

And still another part of his mind had raged, _Why didn't I call? Why didn't I call someone? An ambulance, anyone?_

And over all this madness in his mind, a voice had said, _Take the painting_.

_Take the painting_.

It had been small, barely a whisper. It didn't stop. _Take the painting. Take the painting_. It spread, grew like an infection. _TakethepaintingTakethepaintingTakethepainting._

He'd looked at the _Sayuri_. Even as the tears stained his eyes, he could see its beauty. _She's dead_ , his mind had argued. _She's dead, and it'll do her no good_. He'd shaken his head against the horrid thought, against the very notion of it, but it made _sense_ , didn't it?

He'd stood. And hating himself, he had taken up the painting.

And then he'd heard the crying.

He should've left. He should've run as far and as fast as he could.

But he didn't.

He'd found frail little Yusuke in his room, tucked into his threadbare bed, freshly awake from a nap, his face scrunched up in a pout, his cries echoing through the small, empty apartment.

And Little Yusuke had looked up at him, and sobbed out, "Madarama?" He never could get his name right. "Where's Mom?"

Madarame had helped him out of bed. Taken his hand. Told him to shut his eyes tight, and not to open them for any reason.

Then, he'd led him out of the apartment, the _Sayuri_ tucked under his free arm. "It's alright, Yusuke," he had cooed as they'd made their exit. "It's alright. I've got you."

_I've got you_.

Madarame's knees hit the floorboards. "What...?" He starts, but can't finish.

_Oh God. Oh God_.

The sobs erupt from him. The faces of his apprentices flash through his mind.

_Sensei, look at this!_

_Sensei, how do I make something like that?_

_Is this good, Sensei?_

_Can you look at it, Sensei?_

_You’re the best, Sensei!_

He sees Yusuke, smiling up at him from behind an easel.

He sees Yusuke, hunched over his sketchbooks, eyes filled with wonder.

He sees Yusuke, so alike his mother.

"Chisako," he whispers. "Chisako, I'm sorry."

He leans forward until his head is against the hardwood. "I'm sorry, Chisako. I'm sorry, Yusuke."

His phone vibrates once more. He pays attention this time. He drags himself to it. He has so many calls to make. So many amends. So many mistakes to fix. A thin sliver of his mind screams at him to _think_ about what he's doing, to think about what'll happen to him if he confesses.

But he sees Chisako on that floor. Sees Yusuke and the fear in his eyes.

And he doesn't care.

#

The Phantom Thieves sit in one of LeBlanc's small booths. They are the only ones in the cafe, aside from Sojiro, who stands behind the bar, measuring beans with the look of a man lost in his own little world.

No one talks. Akira cannot speak for the others, but his muscles feel as if they're tied down with weights. The others wear expressions that match his.

Morgana lies in his lap, eyes shut, breathing steady.

The _Sayuri_ is upstairs, tucked away with the remaining artwork they'd taken from Madarame's cognitive gallery.

"What a week, huh?" He asks.

Ryuji is the first to grin, from where he sits alongside Ann. "Totally."

Yusuke fidgets beside Akira. "When will we know?" He asks, casting a glance at Sojiro. "If it worked?"

Ann leans in. "Kamoshida confessed, like a day or two after. Just hang tight. I'm sure it's coming. We definitely did it."

Morgana twitches in Akira's lap, and utters, "Fatty tuna," in his sleep. Everyone grins.

"We should celebrate," Ryuji says. "This is like, a huge win for us."

Ann nods. "But we should probably wait for the confession first. We shouldn't jump the gun."

Ryuji shuts his eyes and leans back in the chair. "I know, I know. But c'mon. Tomorrow's Sunday. We should do _something_ fun."

The TV, up to this point, a faint white noise in the distance, belts out a word that catches Akira's ear. "...Kamoshida."

The others notice it too, and twist their necks to stare at the screen. A newscaster sits behind a desk, papers in hand, and says, "Following the successful prosecution of Suguru Kamoshida the other day, he has been mandated to serve his sentence at..."

"Prosecution?" Ryuji asks, eyes wide. "Holy crap."

"Kamoshida?" Yusuke whispers. "Isn't that your former adversary?"

Akira nods. "Yeah, it is."

"Wow," Ann says. The screen cuts to a scene outside what looks to be a courthouse. Kamoshida, dressed in a poorly-tailored suit and tie, exits, flanked by police officers and a thin man who must be his attorney. "I didn't even know that was going on."

"Same," Ryuji replies. "I totally forgot that asshat was going on trial."

They listen as more details follow. "Whoa," Akira says. "He got life in prison?"

Ann's eyes narrow. "Good."

Akira turns from the television and regards his friends. "Feels weird, doesn’t it. That that all happened while we were focused on Madarame?"

Ryuji beams. "But this means we _have_ to celebrate, right? I mean, Kamoshida's going away for life. That's it. Game over, man!"

A small smile works across Ann's face. "I mean, it is pretty great. We should do something to celebrate it."

"But Yusuke-" Akira starts, but their friend holds up his hand.

"Please," he says. "Do not postpone your festivities on my account. You've told me that our mission was successful. I believe you. And with this other foe fallen, we should celebrate our victories."

"That's the spirit, bro," Ryuji says. "C'mon, who's in?"

Ann raises her hand. Yusuke raises his. Akira smiles, and lifts his. Then, he reaches down, takes one of Morgana's paws in his free hand, and lifts it as well. "Looks like it's unanimous."

"Hell yeah," Ryuji cheers. He reaches his hands into the air, and folds them back behind his head. "Things are finally starting to look up for us."

#

Kobayakowa stares at the television set.

"...given the various testimonies brought forth against Suguru Kamoshida, the three judges presiding declared it to be, 'rather open and shut.'"

Kobayakowa stares at the television set. His apartment smells of mildew. This does not bother him.

"Moving on, the recent controversies surrounding the famous painter..."

Kobayakowa stops listening. He is done listening.

He stands from his armchair. He does not know why he does this.

He stumbles to his apartment's writing desk. He does not know why he does this.

He takes a single piece of stationary and sets it on the desk, and then takes up a pen. He does not know why he does this.

He writes a short, simple message. He does not know why he does this.

He makes his way to the balcony. The wind buffets him when he steps out onto it. The Tokyo skyline sparkles ahead of him. He does not know why he does this.

He grips the balcony's railing in both hands. He does not know why he does this.

He pitches himself forward, into the empty air, and begins to plunge. He does not know why he does this.

And then, before he hits the ground, the fog in his mind vanishes, and the sudden realization of why he's done all this comes to him.

And then he tries to scream but his head smashes open against the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man oh man. These Thursday night classes are wrecking me, ladies and gentlemen. That commute is no joke. I overslept again this morning. Brutal. Thank God the Professor is engaging.
> 
> Anyway, as to this chapter...
> 
> .... meh, not my best work. And that's disappointing because it's the big Madarame fight. That's my main issue with it, the fight. I thought that could've been a lot better. Oh well, I'll just have to endeavor to do better next time. Hope you all enjoyed the rest of the chapter, regardless. 
> 
> Then, there's the answer to the question, 'What's in the box?' Lol, this was actually pretty funny.
> 
> Me, a Few Weeks ago: So, everyone, what do you think is in Madarame's storage unit?  
> Literally Everyone: Well, it could be the Sayuri's, but that would be way too obvious.  
> Me: .... Fuck.
> 
> A few of you are probably wondering about the break I'll be taking. Yes, it's true. I'll be off next week, and honestly, I may take the week after that off too. This is my final semester of grad school, and a lot is riding on it, so I need to make sure I've got a handle on everything so I don't bug out during the finals.
> 
> So, I think I'll be back the week of 2/12, and I'll be sure to be back on the 3-2-3-2 week posting schedule. I think that's working pretty well.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading Crimson. I really appreciate it. You people are wonderful and I'm very grateful to have gotten the chance to speak with you and bounce ideas off of you and just have a good time. Crimson will return!
> 
> After all, I'm just getting started. ;)


	54. The State of Crimson

Hey gang, Dowdz here.

I know you guys are waiting for Crimson to return, and eagerly anticipating the fallout from Madarame, the Kaneshiro arc, Akira and Ann making up, Ryuji being best boy, Morgana's esCATpades (see what I did there?), Haru's likely gruesome revenge on Sugimura, Yusuke's dialogue, and more of that sweet, sweet MakotoxAkira action, and for that, I will be forever grateful.

I really am lucky to have you all as readers, and I can't express enough how much I appreciate it all.

Now, I know you're probably thinking, "Oh shit, is this where he tells us Crimons is going to be discontinued?!"

NO.

No way in Hell.

Crimson will continue. I didn't spend six months writing 200K words and getting emotionally invested in these Japanese kids to just let it fall by the wayside.

"No chance." - Arnold Schwarzenegger, "Commando"

However, I am stepping away for a bit.

This is my final semester of Grad School, and these classes are no joke. I've been going to school at night for three years now, and I want to finish strong.

What's more, due to some recent changes at my office, it has become clear to me that I need a new job. Like, NOW. As to that, I'll need to polish up the resume, reestablish my LinkedIn presence, and start that good ol' networking again.

To be blunt, I need to focus on those things right now.

I love writing Crimson. I love talking to you people about Crimson, P5, and writing in general.

My semester wraps up in early May. I will return after that. That doesn't mean I won't be writing until May. I'll still be writing, it's my favorite thing to do. So, I may post a new chapter from time to time, just to remind you guys that I'm still at it.

Again, I want to thank you all for reading Crimson. That it has been so well received means a lot.

Thank you, and I'll see you all soon!


	55. When Genius Fails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo.

5/29

Ryuji stretches his arms up, until they pop, and settles his hands behind his head with a satisfied yawn. "This," he states, a lazy grin on his face, his eyes shut, "is more like it."

Ann's face lacks his enthusiasm. "I thought you wanted to celebrate?"

He slides one eye open. "We are celebratin'."

"At Big Bang Burger? Last time we went to a fancy hotel."

"Uh, yeah, and remember how well _that_ turned out?" His voice hitches on the last few syllables.

Two blonde heads turn nervous looks towards Akira, who keeps his face buried in the menu, pretending to not have heard. "Sure are a lot of options," he mutters.

Morgana, from where he sits - curled and hidden in Akira's lap - extends a paw and pats a picture of a mass of meat. "I want that."

"You're not going to eat the whole thing."

"Yes, I will."

"I think this burger is bigger than you. It's actually impossible."

Morgana bristles. "You should have some faith. I can definitely do it."

Ryuji, satisfied he has not offended his friend, turns back to Ann. "Besides, this place is more our style. It's filled with the people the Phantom Thieves are fighting for."

She swats his shoulder, and hisses, "Keep your voice down."

Ryuji makes a show of rubbing his arm. "Ow, relax. Look around. No one's listening." His eyes roll over the clientele. "And I'm not wrong. Remember how those rich assholes treated us? But here we are. No one's giving us dirty looks. No one's questioning our right to be here."

Akira can't help himself. "It _is_ a fast food joint, Ryuji."

Yusuke glances up from his own menu. "I've been meaning to ask, what about this food makes it 'fast?'"

Ann rests her cheek on her fist. "They make it in a hurry, so people can eat it in a hurry."

Yusuke purses his lips. "Curious they would not wish to savor it."

The waitress arrives. She carries a tray stacked with glasses filled with water. Once she's set them, everyone places their orders, and Akira acquiesces to Morgana's request for a 'Behemoth Burger.'

As the waitress heads to the kitchen, Ryuji lifts his water and holds it aloft.

"Here's to," and his voice drops to a whisper, "taking down Madarame."

Ann takes up hers'. "Here's to Kamoshida getting what he deserves."

Yusuke smiles and follows suit. "Here's to the expression of the artist, and the baring of one's soul."

Akira grins. "Here's to the weird stuff Yusuke says." They clink their glasses.

A soft vibration sounds from Yusuke's pocket. He pulls out his phone, and his eyes widen. "Excuse me for a moment, friends." He stands and scoots away.

Ryuji watches him walk away. "You don't think that's Madarame, do you?"

Ann bites her lip. "Geez, I never considered he might actually call Yusuke. You don't think he'll say anything, do you?"

Akira shakes his head. Ann might not have considered it, but Akira had warned Yusuke of the possibility. He'd been clear. Yusuke could express shock, anger, heartbreak, whatever he wanted. But he could give away nothing that linked him to the change of heart. Nothing that linked him to the Phantom Thieves.

"He's weird," Akira says. "But he's not stupid. He won't say anything."

Morgana bobs his head. "Akira's right. Besides, you know how Yusuke is. If he does get upset, he'll just paint or something."

Yusuke returns shortly, eyes glazed, phone hanging from a limp hand. "You okay, bro?" Ryuji asks, as the boy slides back into his seat.

A smile breaks his face. "That was Kosei. The Principal, in fact. My expulsion has been revoked. Madarame called him, and confessed to everything." A short, choked laugh escapes his lips. "I can even keep my scholarship, and I can stay in the dorms."

"That's great," Ann says, and everyone goes about agreeing.

Yusuke dips his head forward. "I knew it would work. The change of heart, I mean. But to have this confirmation, and be free of this burden?" He wipes his face on his sleeve. "Thank you, my friends, for helping me."

Ryuji reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. "Wasn't nothin' man. We'd do it again in a second."

"That's right," Morgana replies. "You're one of us, remember?"

Yusuke nods. "Thank you. A thousand times!" He lifts a hand into the air, signaling the waitress.

She arrives and asks, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Madam," Yusuke proclaims. "My buoyancy knows no bounds today! I would like to buy everyone in this establishment a burger."

"Wait, what?" Akira asks.

Ryuji's jaw drops. "What're you doing?"

Yusuke sweeps his gaze over them. "This is cause for celebration. Further celebration. Burgers, I say." He stands, and throws his arms wide. "Burgers for _everyone_."

Morgana mumbles to Akira, "I hope you've got enough in your wallet."

Akira sighs, but keeps his smile. "Me too."

#

Yusuke drags his feet down Central, one hand on Ryuji's shoulder. His face is pale. His moan is perpetual, but barely audible above the clamor of the crowd.

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "C'mon, dude. I told you not to eat the whole thing. A Deluxe Bacon and Bleu Cheese is _way_ too much for you to handle right now."

Ann waits ahead of them, hands on her hips, scowl on her face. "Then you shouldn't have let him order it."

Ryuji glares back. "I didn't hear you protesting. He's a big boy, he can order what he wants." He calls back to Akira, "How's Mona?"

Akira stares down at the cat, who staggers his way down the sidewalk, breath coming in ragged gasps. "I think he's regretting not listening to me," he replies. He lowers the carryout bag to Morgana's eye level, and shakes it. "Keep up. We've got to get this back to LeBlanc's fridge."

"So... filling," Morgana whispers.

"So... _tasty_ ," Yusuke mutters.

Akira shakes his head. "I told you it was too big."

Morgana bumps into his leg. "Just need to... center myself."

"Center yourself?" Akira asks, and Morgana nods, then groans at the movement. "Right, okay." He kneels down, scoops the cat up - who makes a pained, belching sound - and sets him on his shoulder. "We're never going to get back at this rate."

"F-fine," the cat mumbles. "Just don't move too fast."

 _Yesterday, we fought a giant monster and lived. Today, we've been reduced by oversized burgers_.

The gang stumbles their way into Shibuya proper, and hurl themselves into the shuffle. They're about to enter the Station's entrance, when Ryuji, who turns to glance back at the others, stops.

"Uh, guys," he says, and points.

They turn. Across from Shibuya Station sits a skyscraper whose facade features numerous screens typically reserved for important broadcasts and music videos.

The gray face of Madarame peers down at them.

That he is so huge is unsettling. His eyes are wide and misty, and he sits behind a table lined with microphones.

"My name is Ichiryusai Madarame." His voice booms between buildings. "I have achieved fame as an artist, not just in Japan, but around the world. I am here today to confess that this fame is built on a lie."

Shibuya draws a collective breath, and Akira looks to find many with their eyes glued to the screens.

Morgana's claws tighten on his shoulders.

"I have lied to the public. I have cheated my students, and covered up terrible deeds." His eyes fall towards the tabletop, and his mouth sputters soundless for a few moments. "None of the work for which I am known, not a single piece, is my own. Every painting I claim is stolen from one of my students. My most famous piece, the _Sayuri_ was, in fact, painted by a woman who was once very dear to me." His face scrunches up. "She died. An event I failed to stop, and may have even contributed to. I then tarnished her memory by stealing her work." He lets out a long breath and leans forward, as if the words are knives slicing his insides. When his head lifts, tears run from his eyes. "I'm sorry. To everyone I hurt. I'm sorry for every lie I ever told. I'm going to take responsibility. I will provide an accounting of all those I've stolen from, so that I might repair some of the lives I've ruined. I will confess everything to the proper authorities. I will make things right, even if it takes the remainder of my miserable life." He opens his mouth as if to say more, but only sobs. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm sorry."

The camera switches off.

Akira turns to Yusuke, who watches the black screen. His lip quivers. "Hey," Akira says, and walks up to him. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Y-yeah," Ann tells him. She rests a hand on the boy's shoulder, and gently pulls him towards the station. His eyes narrow and cloud. "It's okay," Ann says. "It's okay, Yusuke. We've got you."

#

The news tears across the city. It slithers into online forums, plasters itself across the screen of every computer, smartphone, and tablet.

Soon, it is not a thing people are talking about. It is _the_ thing people are talking about. Within minutes of Madarame's confession, all of Tokyo knows. And they speak it, loud whereas before they only suggested it in whispers between confidants. They say it many different ways, but it all means the same thing.

"The Phantom Thieves are real."

#

Madarame stares at the small imperfections in the table's wood. He runs his fingers over them, feeling the bumps with non-calloused hands. _This is nice_ , he thinks. To focus on something small. Unimportant. He wonders if this is how so many other people feel, frequently. It has been so long since he's really _looked_ at anything and been taken by it.

"Madarame-san." His attorney's voice is near manic. "I have to urge you, _again_ to reconsider this."

 _Prison_ , Madarame thinks. _I'll have plenty of time to study the walls in prison_. He smiles at the thought, though he cannot say why. _This must be what it feels like, to be empty_.

It is not unpleasant.

"I've made up my mind." His words are quiet, but firm. He can still feels the trails the tears mapped across his face. "My funds, all of them, will be dispersed to my apprentices. My properties will be sold. My assets, liquidated. I know this is a lengthy process, so I would like you to begin at once. I want these Trusts established before the end of June."

His attorney frowns, and sighs. "I will see to it, then. But-" and he gestures to the waiting police officer, who stands in the corner, patient, face blank. "There's a better way to do this. A cleaner way."

Madarame shakes his head and pushes himself away from the table. They are in a Green Room for the studio that hosted his confession. Madarame had called the police himself and requested they bring him in. Perhaps out of respect for his position, they insisted on holding off until his affairs were in order.

"Perhaps, but this is the right way. I deserve incarceration, after everything I've done." He stands. "I'm ready, officer."

The policeman nods, and approaches. Madarame turns his back, and presents his hands.

The click of the steel along his wrists feels oddly satisfying. "Well then, let's be off," he says.

The officer sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Right this way, sir."

His attorney trails them as they exit. A number of station personnel line the hall, craning their necks to look at him.

 _This is for the best_ , he reminds himself. _The students will get what they deserve_.

When they step out from the studio, a crowd descends on them. Cameras from unaffiliated stations zoom into his face. Reporters shove microphones towards his mouth. Spectators and ill-wishers line the sidewalk. The latter shout curses and incriminations.

This all washes over him like so much water.

He glances up at the sky. It is a clear day. A sunny, blue-skied afternoon.

It is beautiful.

 _Well, Chisako_ , he thinks. _It took a very long time, but I finally did the right thing._

He remembers her smile, the eagerness with which she worked, the love she bore for her art and her son. He remembers the long hours the two of them would spend in conversation, on the phone or at his studio, discussing art for art's sake. He'd been old even then, but those nights had returned to him a life he thought had passed him.

He knows he doesn't deserve forgiveness, but he can't help recall the same traits in Yusuke. The same love of art. The same, oftentimes bizarre, eccentricities.

He grins at the blue above him. Who knew? Maybe one day, when all this was in the distant past, and things had been made right, maybe he could sit with Yusuke and just talk.

 _That would be nice_.

Someone stabs him in the stomach.

Madarame looks down at the knife in his gut, and traces his eyes back up the arm and into the red face of a young man. "Remember me?" The man screams.

He yanks the knife out and slams it home once more. "Remember me?"

Again.

" _REMEMBER ME?_ "

Madarame does. Even as the intense rushing sensation spreads through his body and his vision starts to darken, he can recall the boy's face.

_Daiki Aoe._

The knife stabs him again, and again, and again, and people are screaming and he hears a shout that must be from the police officer who became obstructed due to the crowd and Madarame can't understand why any of this is happening but he sees something at the corner of Daiki Aoe's mouth and he somehow manages to focus on it and it has to be spittle but it can't be spittle because it's black.

Then, he falls. His back hits the ground, landing on his still-cuffed arms. A part of his brain that still fires sees the officer seize the young man, and someone crouches next to him and shouts, but Madarame can't tell what's being said.

 _Daiki Aoe_. He remembers this boy. Remembers the work he'd done for him. Remembers kicking him out, just like all the others.

_Daiki Aoe._

He'd been such a good boy.

And then Madarame hears and sees nothing else.

#

Makoto sits on her couch and listens as the news anchor continues, "... quickly seized the assailant and placed him into custody. Ichiryusai Madarame, having received multiple stab wounds to his torso, was rushed to a local hospital, where he was pronounced dead upon arrival. This coming only two hours after his televised appearance, in which he apparently admitted to multiple counts of plagiarism and potentially murder. This has led some to speculate that-"

"Makoto."

She jumps off the couch and turns to find Sae in the doorway, stern-faced.

"Oh, hi." She snatches the remote off the cushion and mutes the television. "Did you hear? That painter, Madarame, the one from the Phantom Thieves' Calling Card? He confessed, and they just said he was stabbed to death in the street outside the studio. Isn't that-"

"I need the name." Her voice is soft, but it smothers Makoto's words.

"The name?"

Sae steps forward, and drops her bag onto the couch. "Yes, Makoto. The name. Of the man."

"Oh." She looks down at her hands, swallows, and chooses her next words carefully. "I have his name, Sae. But I don't think you need it."

"And how's that?"

She winces at her sister's tone. "Haru convinced him not to do anything about the incident."

"Well, thankfully the restraint of strangers has always been something you can rely upon. The _name_ , Makoto."

It tumbles out despite herself. "Rin Sugimura."

Her sister's eyes widen a fraction. "Sugimura? As in _the_ Sugimura's?" Makoto doesn't reply. "Figures. I'll deal with this."

Makoto steps around the couch. "Please. Please don't. I know I messed up, but if you do anything, it'll get Haru in trouble and-"

Sae's scowl is something special. "I don't _care_ about this Haru, Makoto. _Her_ future is not my priority."

"But I-" Makoto starts, then stops. Her phone rings from the living room table. From the angle she stands, she can read the school's number.

Sae recognizes it too. "Aren't you going to get that? It could be important." Makoto takes it off the table, and Sae quickly adds, "If it's that Principal, give it to me immediately."

Makoto answers with, "Hello?"

She listens, and remains silent while the person on the other end says their peace. "I see," she replies, once they've finished. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." She hangs up, but holds the phone in clenched hands.

"What's wrong?" Sae asks, in a tone that suggests the word, 'now' barely escaped the end of that sentence.

Makoto looks at her. "It's Principal Kobyakawa."

"Goddammit, I knew that son of a-"

"He's dead."

#

Akechi steps off the elevator, his hand behind his back.

When he reaches his destination, he slides inside the office and walks up to the receptionist, a young woman who keeps her eyes on her computer's screen. Her fingers dart over the keyboard, and her mouth is drawn into a thin, white line.

Akechi clears his throat, and with a flourish, reveals what's behind his back. He holds it out to her.

Her eyes flash to him, and widen. "Akechi-kun!" She cries. Then, she sees what he holds. "Oh, you are too much!" She laughs as she takes the bouquet into her arms.

He lowers his head and says, "Mori-chan, I'm afraid I'll never be enough for you."

Mori sighs and rolls her eyes. "You are such a charmer. Honestly, I can't even with you sometimes."

He gives her his best smile. "How have you been?"

She waves the question away. "Oh, you know. Changing the country."

"So, busy?"

"Too busy."

"And no time for a love life? What a shame."

Her grin morphs into a smirk. "Keep dreaming, young man. Maybe once we've won I'll have a night to myself." She sets the flowers on her desk, and plants her hands on her hips. "But, what about you? Any interesting cases?"

Akechi thinks of Kobayakawa's sniveling shadow, begging for itself.

Akechi thinks of Madarame, bleeding out on the sidewalk.

"Nothing too exciting, I'm afraid."

She nods. "That's too bad." She holds up an index finger, and recites, "One derives their happiness from the full application and direction of their talents towards a just and worthwhile goal."

Akechi's grin twitches. He shuts his eyes. "I can't place that one. It sounds like something he said to the NPA." Before she can answer, he asks, "Speaking of which, is he in?"

"He is." She jerks her head towards the double doors behind her desk. "There's a few advisors in there, but you can go on in. He's expecting you."

"Then, I regret I must leave you, my lady," Akechi replies, and gives an exaggerated bow.

Mori giggles. "Alright, alright. Enough of that. I've got to get back to work."

Akechi smiles, moves past her, opens the doors, and steps through.

A number of heads turn his way. A few men sit on the plush office couches, a few stand behind them, along the walls.

Masayoshi Shido reclines at his desk, a look of cool reflection on his face. "And I'm telling you, gentlemen, the New Dawn movement no longer poses a threat."

A squirrely looking man speaks up from the couch. "But sir, just because Yukio Kan is dead doesn't mean his group is. There's been rumors that-"

Shido cuts him off. "Those rumors are being spread on my orders, Shan-san. The truth is that the remaining members of the New Dawn have already aligned with us."

Akechi watches as the heads swivel around. They oink at one another like pigs. A few look like they would prefer to say something else. Akechi notes their faces.

"But now, I've another appointment. If you will excuse us?" Shido remains sitting, and waits as the men file out. Akechi watches them leave. A number of them stop alongside Mori's desk, anxious to get their requisite flirting in. Akechi shuts the door behind them.

"What'd you make of the talking heads today, Goro?" Shido asks.

Akechi sits across from him. "I was hardly here long enough to form an opinion."

Shido smiles, and peers at him through those tinted glasses. "We both know that's not true."

"I think they would've appreciated being made aware of your plans to acquire the New Dawn."

"They'll get over it. Besides, if any of them had brains in their heads, they would've realized what I was doing."

Akechi doesn't reply. Together, the two sit in silence.

Shido is the one who breaks it. "I heard about the painter."

Akechi rests a gloved hand on the desk, and drums his fingers across it. "Yes... about that. I feel I must apologize." He has to drag the words from his gut.

Shido's brows rise. "Apologize? Why?"

"It was sloppy. By the time the gangster's requests reached me, the painter's Palace had already collapsed. I had to improvise."

"I saw."

"Had I been faster, I could've been more surgical."

Shido nods, and a look drifts over his face Akechi has come to associate with long, twisting thoughts. "The boy that did the deed. Where'd you find him?"

"Do you want his name?" Akechi asks.

Shido shakes his head.

"I try to plan for contingencies. We've kept tabs on the painter's former apprentices. A good number of them have a presence in the Metaverse. This one happened to be a drug addict. Unstable."

Shido spreads his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "So, an addict takes his revenge on his former, unscrupulous Sensei. The painter's secrets die with him, including whatever connections he may have had to various parties. I'd call that impressive improvisation."

"Still, the former apprentice may-"

"You just said he was a drug addict. That is what people will believe, because that is the story they've been told. It won't matter what story _he_ tells afterwards. If it makes you feel better, keep an eye on him. Take measures to ensure this doesn't go sideways. Still, you did well."

Akechi brushes a lock of hair from his face and allows himself a smile. "Thank you."

"Now then, the Principal?"

Akechi's smile is about to expand, but he keeps it locked down. "Which one?" He asks, unable to help himself.

Shido's grin grows cold. "The one that took a tumble."

"All went accordingly."

"Instructions were followed?"

"To the letter. His ineptitude is no longer a danger to us. And, because of the _strangeness_ of his passing, we have various options on how to play it, if we need to."

"And you're certain these Phantom Thieves can be gotten to through that school?"

Akechi doesn't allow his face to change, even as he feels the blood quicken beneath his skin. "I'd say I'm eighty-five percent sure. It shouldn't be much longer until we ascertain their identity, or identities."

Shido rubs his hands over one another, a nervous little tic he doesn't realize he has. "I don't like what I don't know, Goro."

Akechi nods. "It's my top priority."

Shido lets out a small laugh. "You've a lot of those."

He shrugs. "No more than necessary."

Shido stands, and moves around the desk until he stands besides Akechi. Then, he reaches out a hand and rests it on his shoulder. "I want you to know, I could never have gotten this far without you. All the work you've done, all the things you've endured. It means so much to me, to know that it's directed towards our shared goal." He beams. "I'm proud of you, son."

And Akechi smiles up at him, and says, "Thanks, Dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy.
> 
> Damn, it's good to post again. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I really took a STAB at exploring the fallout of the Madarame arc. See what I did there? I wrote, 'I really took a STAB at exploring the fallout of the Madarame arc.' That's because Madarame got stabbed.
> 
> Get it?
> 
> Yeah, you get it.
> 
> It's been a busy set of months! Grad School is wrapping up! I got a new job that I'll be starting in May! I finally got rid of my old coffee table!
> 
> I know, I know. You guys don't care about any of that shit. You want to know when I'm coming back, right? Fair enough.
> 
> May 7.
> 
> That's when I'll be back.
> 
> Let me just say this. Thank you! Thank you for reading and commenting and kudoing and Favorite-ing, and all those other 'ings. Over at ao3, this story crossed 50K hits. That's amazing! You people are amazing!
> 
> And the P5 anime finally hit. And it was... fine. Yep. It mirrored the game pretty closely, with a few interesting diversions. I watched it with my wife, and she was like, "Jesus Christ, where was this casino scene in Crimson?" I didn't have an answer.
> 
> Other things my wife said during the episode:
> 
> "Wait, so is Kawakami a maid maid, or a sexy maid?"
> 
> "Does his shirt say 'OMG?'"
> 
> *Beneath the Mask comes on* "Oh! It's that music!"
> 
> *Sae shows up.* "Oh shit, is that the sister?"
> 
> It followed the first few hours pretty closely, but the whole thing seemed more of a 'Spot the thing from the game,' than a solid foundation for a 25 episode TV show. And that's fine. Hell, when Takemi walked by I shouted, "Oh man, it's the Doc!"
> 
> I'm sure it'll flesh Ren/Akira in a satisfactory way, similarly to what they did with Yu in the P4 anime.
> 
> Anyway, I know this A/N is pretty long, but it's been a while since I've posted that I wanted to make it count. Again, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter, and I hope I'll see you all again on May 7th!


	56. When We Talk About Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby, I'm back!

5/30

 

Yusuke stares at the curry. Smoke no longer curls off the food. The television whispers in the background, but he cannot focus on it.

He will never admit this to anyone, but he is quite proud of his hair. He does his best to ensure it maintains its sleek shine, its volume. He does this, because a long time ago, Madarame had said - in passing - that he had hair similar to his mother's. He cannot remember the context of the conversation.

Now, however, his hair hangs loose in his face. Strands slide through his vision. This is fine. Yusuke does not want to face the world today.

"That's gonna get cold, if it isn't already."

Yusuke lifts his gaze. Sojiro stands further down the bar, his back to him. He writes the specials of the day upon a small blackboard that hangs at eye level.

"My apologies," Yusuke mutters.

Sojiro shrugs. "It's no skin off my back, but it's not as good cold."

Yusuke does not know what to say. For the last few days, Akira has acted as a buffer between himself and 'Boss.'

But Akira is at school.

Morgana had gone with him, though he had first insisted on staying by Yusuke's side.

The news had come yesterday.

Madarame was dead. Stabbed.

The others had all looked at him, their expressions a mix of apprehension, confusion, and curiosity. _How will he react_ , they all seemed to wonder.

Yusuke said little.

He'd opted to stay out of school an extra day, despite his dropped expulsion.

Morgana had insisted on staying with him. Yusuke had declined.

Akira had understood. Or seemed to, anyway.

Now, he sits with Sojiro.

"I would like to apologize," he mumbles. "For the great imposition I must be. Rest assured, I will be gone by tonight."

"Finally got that dorm situation resolved?" Sojiro asks. He finishes scratching out the specials, steps back, and nods.

"Ah. Yes. The mess has been adequately untangled."

"That's good."

"Indeed." He is not hungry, though he knows he has every right to be. He scoops up a spoonful and brings it to his mouth. It is still so good.

Sojiro turns and walks the length of the bar, towards the kitchen.

"Thank you," Yusuke says, as he passes. "For allowing me to stay here." Sojiro pauses and glances back. "My situation was dire."

Boss’ eyes linger on him, and his face forms a frown. "You're one of those kids, aren't you?"

Yusuke blinks. "Kids?"

"The ones that Madarame guy stole from."

"You're... aware of that?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's been all over the news. I can put two and two together."

Yusuke clears his throat. _Does he know about the_ Sayuri _?_ _It's right upstairs_. "You are quite perceptive, it would seem." He nods. "But, you are correct. I am one of Madarame's apprentices. Or, rather, I was one."

Sojiro's gaze flicks towards the TV. "So, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The guy, Madarame. He's dead, right?" He shrugs. "But, then again, he was real bastard, wasn't he?"

Yusuke feels himself bristle at the words, but only for a moment. He nods once more. "He was. He truly was."

_And yet..._

"And yet," Yusuke says. "I cannot help but wish he were still alive. It angers me to say it, because his greed rampaged unchecked and seemed infinite. He betrayed me. He betrayed my mother. He betrayed so many people."

When Yusuke looks up at Sojiro, he knows there are tears running down his face, but he doesn't care.

"But now he's gone, and I feel... I feel so _sad_. Why? He was a criminal of the highest caliber. He robbed me again and again. He never _fed_ me. But when I think about our last exchange of words, I wish things had gone differently.

"Part of me, a not insubstantial part, wishes I knew none of it. That I had continued in ignorance, oblivious to his abuse and crimes. Because, even in the lie, I was happy, and I can't accept that a part of him wasn't happy either, even as he juggled all the sins." The words tumble from him, faster than he's used to. "What does that say about me? What does it say about me that a part of me wishes for that? That I wish he were here, now, eating this food with me? Smiling? Happy? Content? What does it mean that I want that?"

Sojiro shrugs. "I dunno."

Yusuke blinks, and some of the mist in his vision clears. "Oh." He wipes a sleeve across his face. “I was under the impression you'd have something more insightful to say."

Sojiro purses his lips. "Do I look like an insightful guy?"

He nods. "Quite. I believe it is the goatee and glasses."

Sojiro releases a deep chuckle. "I'll keep the look then." He steps forward and reaches for the plate. "Let me make you something fresh. Like I said, it's better hot."

"It's good regardless," Yusuke counters, but he lets Sojiro take the plate.

#

Before the school day can begin, an assembly is called.

The students file into the auditorium, among them, Akira, Ann, and Ryuji. Morgana is back in the classroom, napping.

They stand near the back, hands in pockets. Akira yawns.

"Hey," Ryuji says, and leans in. "How's Yusuke?"

Akira shrugs. "He says he's fine, but honestly? Probably not great."

Ryuji makes a face. "I did some more research last night, and rumor has it that the guy who killed Madarame was one of his former apprentices."

"You did 'research?'" Ann asks, a small smile forcing its way onto her face. "Did it involve a search engine and the first result?"

"Shut it," Ryuji replies. "But isn't it nuts?"

Akira nods, and runs his eyes over the surrounding students. No one seems to be listening. "If it’s true. Madarame screwed over a lot of people. I can't say I'm that surprised."

Ann's face falls. "Still. Poor Yusuke."

"He'll get over it," Ryuji says.

"I mean, yeah," Ann replies. "But not soon. Madarame was a real creep, but he was like a father to him."

Ryuji scoffs. "Yeah. A father who didn't feed him."

"Like I said," Ann replies. "A creep."

Akira's mind drifts from the conversation, because the faculty ascends to the stage. Among them, is Makoto Niijima. He feels his blood speed up. _What's she doing up there?_ He scans the faces of the faculty. There was Kawakami. Ushimaru moves towards the podium. Everyone is present, save for Kobayakawa. _Where's the Principal?_ A brief, wild thought cuts through his mind, and he wishes he'd sent Morgana to check in on him. _Could this be about Madarame? Why would it be?_ He can't shake the feeling that it is. That they slipped up. That they forgot about something and now it's too late. _Calm down. It's a school assembly. That's all it is._

Then he realizes Ushimaru-sensei is speaking. "...heavy hearts, we announce the passing of Principal Kobayakawa."

There's a ripple through the crowd.

Ryuji swivels wide eyes towards Akira. "He's freakin' _dead?_ "

"No way," Ann whispers.

_How?_ Akira wonders.

Ushimaru continues. "In times such as these, those of us left behind must strive to both press on, and honor those who are gone. We will always remember Principal Kobayakawa's commitment to Shujin Academy, and to education as a whole."

_Right_ , Akira thinks. _He loved Shujin so much. Too bad he didn't give a shit about the students_. An errant thought worms its way through his mind. _I wonder if he had a Palace._ It was too late to check now, but the possibility gnaws at him.

Ushimaru continues. "For those of you wishing to pay your respects, services will be held..." and so on and so forth. He gestures to the gathered faculty and Makoto, and reiterates the commitments of each. He speaks to doing Kobayakawa's memory proud.

And it goes on, and on, and on.

And then it's done.

Makoto had hardly done a thing, save a brief nod when Ushimaru notated her. She shuffles off the stage with the remainder of the faculty, and the students are told to return to their classes.

"Dude," Ryuji says, as the assembly breaks up.

"I know," Akira says, and pats the air. "I know. We'll talk after school, yeah?" He looks over at Ann, who nods.

_What does this mean for us?_ Akira wonders. He joins the procession heading back into Shujin's halls. If Kobayakawa was dead, what was going to happen to the file on the Phantom Thieves he'd shown Makoto?

#

Once they exit the subway, and enter Yongen-jaya proper, Ryuji releases all his pent up questions. "How'd you think he died? Heart attack? That dude's cholesterol must've been through the roof! Oh, but what does that mean for us, you know? If he's for real dead, then does that mean the investigation is off?"

Ann makes a face, as they turn the corner towards LeBlanc. "How should we know, Ryuji?"

"Hey, I'm just putting these questions out there!"

Morgana pops his head out of Akira's bag. "Ryuji has a point. We don't really know what this means. It might mean nothing."

"Hold on," Ryuji says, and stops. There's a frown sketched across his face, and he shuts his eyes tight.

"What're you doing?" Ann asks, brows raised.

"Thinkin'," Ryuji replies.

"You seriously think like _that?_ " She asks.

"Would you shut up?" Ryuji growls.

Akira sighs. "Let's let him think."

They stand there as Ryuji goes through whatever motions he needs to. A few moments later, he opens his eyes, and begins to speak slowly. As he does, he pats the air with his hands, as if he were setting his words carefully onto a table, in a proper order. "So, if Kobayakawa figured we were Shujin students, and asked the Prez to look into us, wouldn't his death mean that the Prez _isn't_ looking into us anymore?"

Morgana lets out a groan. "You made us all shut up so you could think, and _that's_ all you came up with?"

"Can it, cat," Ryuji replies. He looks at Akira. "But isn't that right?"

Akira shrugs. "As much as I would like to believe that," he begins, and makes a point to not glance in Ann's direction, "we don't know. Kobayakawa could’ve told someone else about his suspicions. Other than Makoto."

"Like the police?" Ann asks.

Akira shrugs. “I don’t know about that. I want to err on the side of caution, but you’d think if the police had a whiff of us they’d have closed in already. After all, we're becoming pretty big. Especially after Madarame."

Morgana clears his throat. "That reminds me. We should check on Yusuke."

"Right," Akira says, and leads them the rest of the way to LeBlanc.

When he opens the door, it takes - as it always does - a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

They focus just as he hears a voice call, "Hey there, cuz."

Ohya sits in one of the far booths, a smirk on her face, hands folded together beneath her chin. There's a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, and Sojiro leans against the bar a few feet from her, and the look he shoots Akira gives him the impression that he's just interrupted a serious flirting session.

He runs his eyes over the cafe. No sign of Yusuke. Either he wasn't in, or he was upstairs.

"Dude," Ryuji whispers. "What's she-"

"Could you take my bag?" Akira asks, and slides it off his shoulder. Morgana shifts around inside it. "I'll be up in a few minutes." As he hands the bag to Ryuji, he whispers, "If Yusuke's upstairs, text me."

"Is everything okay?" Ann asks.

Akira glances back at Ohya. "I think so." _But I never know with her_.

The two blondes nod to Sojiro and make their way upstairs. Akira comes to a stop at Ohya's booth.

"Have a seat," she says, and gestures at the spot across from her. Then she looks up at Sojiro. "Sorry, Boss. I've got to borrow my apprentice here for a while. But I'm still seriously considering your proposal."

Sojiro smirks, and heads back around the bar.

_Proposal? Oh god, what proposal? If they got together, that would be too much! Way too much! Dammit! Focus!_ He steadies his breathing. His phone vibrates.

"Sorry," he says, and makes to pull it out. "One sec."

"Take your time," Ohya replies.

**_ANN_ ** _: He's here._

Akira begins to type a response.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Tell him that next time we'd appreciate a head's up!_

He deletes it instead. No need to give Yusuke a hard time on what must already be a hard day for him. He texts a quick 'thanks,' instead, and slides his phone back into his pocket.

"So, what's up?" He asks.

"'What's up,' he says," Ohya replies, and shakes her head. "I think we both know." She leans forward and whispers. "It looks like the Phantom Thieves of Hearts were successful. But, the question is, how successful?"

"What'd you mean?" Akira asks.

"I can buy that these mysterious friends you’ve got managed to get Madarame to confess. But let me ask you this. Did they kill him?"

Akira's eyes widen. "What? No, of course not!"

Ohya raises her hands, palms out. "Hey now, take it easy."

Akira glances back towards Sojiro, but if the man heard his little outburst, he doesn’t show any sign. "The Phantom Thieves don't _kill_ people. You saw the news, didn't you? It was someone else. People online are saying it was a former apprentice of his. One of those drug addicts you told me about."

Ohya lifts her cup of coffee and brings it to her lips. Her sip is slow. _Very_ slow. Once done, she lets out a long, "Ahhh," before saying, "Sure. Makes sense. Asshole painter comes clean about his scam, and some unstable young man takes his revenge. Nice and clear cut. Nice and easy." She sets the cup down. "A little _too_ easy, if you ask me."

"What'd you mean?"

Ohya shrugs. "The Phantom Thieves can change hearts, right?"

Akira nods. "Right."

"Well, what else can they do?"

"Huh?"

She brings her hands together. "I'm asking if the Phantom Thieves can do things to people, other than change their hearts. For instance, could they compel someone to kill another person?"

Akira doesn't realize his hands are fists until he looks down at them. "That's not-"

She cuts him off. "Just, hear me out. Don't interrupt. Don't get mad. Just listen. The Phantom Thieves wanted to change Madarame's heart. Or, rather, they wanted Madarame to confess to his crimes, which we both know were horrible. So, _somehow_ , they make that happen. Ichiryusai Madarame gets on TV and tells everyone how shitty he is.

"Perfect. Wonderful. All according to plan. Everything played out the way the Phantom Thieves wanted. Only, what if that's not the case? What if Madarame didn't have a change of heart? What if he'd been blackmailed? What if he was going to recant at a later date? What if he knew something about the Phantom Thieves? Something that could expose them, or hurt them, or whatever?"

Akira opens his mouth to protest, but Ohya soldiers on. "The Phantom Thieves already _got_ their confession. They succeeded as far as the public is concerned. But, what if, to protect themselves, they knew they had to shut Madarame up for good? And what better way, than with a former apprentice?" She holds up one hand, palm towards the ceiling. "Madarame confesses. The Phantom Thieves are heroes in the eyes of the public." She holds up her other hand, the same way. "Madarame dies. He gets what he deserved in the eyes of the public." She brings her hands together. "And the Phantom Thieves remain anonymous. Remain mystical. Remain heroes."

She picks up her cup of coffee, and takes another very long sip.

Akira waits until she's said, "Ahhh," again, before he begins to speak. "So, the Phantom Thieves were willing to do what exactly? Ruin the life of a drug addict by framing him for a murder?"

Ohya's smile widens to a smirk. "You know, I was hoping you would bring him up." She taps her skull with her knuckles. "Whatever else you think of me, you should know I've got a pretty damn good memory. I've got a list of Madarame's former apprentices tattooed across the gray matter between my ears. So, once the rumor mill started churning, it didn't take me long to track down who it was. Daiki Aoe."

"You work fast," Akira says.

"That's the job, cuz," she replies. "Here's the thing about Daiki Aoe." Her smile falls away. "Yes. He was a drug addict. But he'd been going through a program. As of three days ago, he was thirty days clean."

"How'd you know that?" Akira asks.

"Because I spoke with people who are in the program with him. Apparently, Daiki Aoe was adamant about 'this time' being different. He wanted to turn his life around. And from what I could gather, he did everything right. He was _clean_ , Akira."

Akira doesn't like where this is going. "Okay, so...?"

"So, I have a hard time believing he would snap like that, relapse, _and then_ go murder someone. Why would he do that? Because his former master confirmed _what he knew to be the truth_ all along? Daiki Aoe should've been vindicated the moment Madarame confessed, and instead, he went out and murdered him."

Akira drums his fingers across the table, and thinks. "But, it's like you said, he _was_ a drug addict. That stuff can mess with your head. It can make you do crazy things."

Ohya reaches across the table and grabs Akira's hand. He blinks and almost yanks it back, but doesn't. He lifts his eyes to hers'. "Akira, _come on_ ," she says. " _Think_. Does this really make sense to you?" She glances over his shoulder, and he realizes she's checking to see if Sojiro is close by. "There's something else. Apparently, Daiki Aoe is _insistent_ that he doesn't remember doing anything. He doesn't even remember seeing or hearing about Madarame's confession."

"And how do you know _that?_ " Akira asks.

"Because I've got sources in the police." She nods at whatever she sees on Akira's face. "I know, I know. I'm very impressive. But that's not the point, Akira. The point is, _something is off_ about all this."

"What?" Akira asks.

Ohya takes her hand from his and leans back in her seat. "That brings me to my next point. Your Principal is dead, right?"

Akira is about to ask her how she knows about _that_ , but realizes he doesn't wish to sound like a broken record, and really, he should just stop questioning her investigative prowess.

Instead, he nods. "There was an assembly today. They told us then."

"I don't suppose they told you how he died?"

Akira tries not to let his eagerness show. "They didn't. But, you know?"

She nods. "I do. And I want to tell you."

"You want to tell me? Why don't you just tell me?"

And then Ohya's grin returns in force. "Hey now, I thought you were catching on. You scratch my back, and I tell you how your Principal died."

Akira sighs. "Fine. I'll tell you what I can but-"

"Uh-uh," Ohya says, and raises an index finger which she waves from side to side. "That's not what I want. What I want is your continued assistance."

"With what?" Akira asks. "Madarame's story is done, isn't it?"

"Not really, but your role is." She takes another _frustratingly_ long sip of her coffee. "Here's the thing, Akira. You've managed to, in your own awkward and bumbling way, to somewhat, kind of, fragmentally so, impress me. I'm not going to ask you how you got those photos from Natsuki Storage, because, honestly, I'd prefer not to know." She giggles. "That's a lie. I'm actually _dying_ to know, but I'll restrain myself for the good of our relationship."

"Our relationship?"

She nods. "I'd like to keep this little partnership of ours going. You hit the bricks with me from time to time, follow up on leads, and work whatever strange magic you've got that let you get those photos."

"And what do I get?"

"Besides a crash course in investigative journalism? You'll get what I know, when I know it. I won't give you the names of sources. I won't betray confidences. But if there's something you need to know, or something I think you need to know, and I can get it for you, I will."

Akira stares at her. Isn't he done with this? He'd reached out to Ohya for the sake of the Madarame investigation, and that was over. What else could she give him? But, as evidenced by this very conversation, she _had_ information to give him. Information that might be more relevant to him than she even imagined.

And, when he thinks about it, the idea of helping Ohya with another assignment, was an enticing one. Sure, she was quirky. Yet, he liked spending time with her.

_And if she does have sources inside the police, those might come in handy later_.

"Okay," he says. "It's a deal."

Ohya lets out a sigh, and looks more relieved than anything. "Good. That's good. Because I really wanted to tell you what happened to your Principal."

"So what did happen?"

Ohya meets his eyes and says, "He killed himself."

Akira blinks. He looks right back at her, but doesn't say anything.

"He threw himself off of his apartment's balcony."

All Akira can think to ask is, "Why?"

"He hit the pavement, and the police were called. Naturally, they figured foul play might've been involved. They went up to the apartment and investigated. They found the door locked from the inside, and no indication of a struggle. Given his size, if there had been a struggle, there would've been a damn clear sign of it." She bites her lower lip, and almost looks nervous. "But, they did find a note."

"A suicide note?"

"No, Akira. A fucking grocery list. Yes, a suicide note."

Akira feels his cheeks redden. "Sorry."

Ohya shakes her head. "No, that was my bad. This is probably hard to hear." She stares down at her coffee. "God, do I need a drink. So look, they found a note, and it said something. My source in the police gave me the details."

"So, what did it say?"

Ohya takes a deep breath. "It said, _'I'm sorry. I knew all along. The Phantom Thieves were right._ '"

_I'm sorry._

_I knew all along._

_The Phantom Thieves were right._

_The Phantom Thieves were right._

_The Phantom Thieves..._

_...were right._

_The Phantom Thieves..._

_Phantom Thieves..._

_Suicide note._

_Oh, shit._

He looks at Ohya, and she nods. "Do you see? Do you get it?"

Akira does. "I... but-"

" _Akira_ ," Ohya says. "Please. Be careful. I don't know what this all means. But if it means the worst thing it _could_ mean, then these Phantom Thieves you hold in high regard are not who you think they are."

#

After Ohya leaves, Akira trudges up the steps to his room.

Morgana, Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke meet him at the top.

"Is she gone?" Yusuke asks, and Akira notices that he appears to be vibrating.

He nods. "Yep."

"Excellent," he replies. "When she entered, I was heading upstairs to gaze upon the _Sayuri_ once more. I recognized her at once from your description of her appalling taste in clothes. I thought it best to keep myself hidden. I did not want to give away any unnecessary details of our escapades."

Akira smiles and pats him on the shoulder. "Good job, Yusuke. By the way, are you okay?"

Yusuke leans against the railing. "Ah, well. I have had to urinate for some time now, but with her downstairs, did not deem it safe to do so."

Ryuji bursts out into laughter.

Ann scowls. "Oh, gross."

Yusuke glares at her. "I will not be shamed by the functions of my body!" And then he bounds down the stairs towards the bathroom.

It is a decent amount of time before he returns. Akira waits until he does.

"So, what'd Ohya want?" Ryuji asks.

"Aside from a new wardrobe?" Ann asks, giggles, and raises her hand for a high-five from Ryuji.

The blonde boy just shakes his head and says, "Weak."

Ann pouts, but Yusuke nods. "I too, would like to know why she came here," he says.

Akira sits down on his bed, and then leans back until he's staring at the ceiling. "Where to begin?" He asks.

He does his best to recount everything Ohya told him.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ryuji says, and shakes his head. "She thinks _we_ _killed_ Madarame?"

" _And_ Principal Kobayakawa?" Ann asks, mouth gaping. "That's... that's..."

" _Reprehensible_ ," Yusuke growls. "To think that we would stoop to something so low? How could she-"

"Guys," Akira says, and pushes himself up to a sitting position. "I get it. But think about it from her perspective. Madarame confesses, and then gets killed. Kamoshida goes to jail, and Kobayakawa, who knew about the abuse, also dies, after writing a note declaring that the _'Phantom Thieves were right_.'" He shrugs. "Honestly, when it's all spelled out like that, if I _wasn't_ a Phantom Thief, I'd think something weird was going on too."

"Hold on," Morgana says, from where he sits on the desk. "Do you think something weird is going on?"

Akira looks at each of them. "The way I see it, there are a few options."

He makes a fist, and lifts his thumb. "Option One. The Phantom Thieves killed Madarame and Kobayakawa."

"Which is bullshit," Ryuji growls.

"Crazy," Ann shouts.

"Erroneous on both counts!" Yusuke puts in.

Akira nods. "Guys, I _know_. Just listen. Option One. The Phantom Thieves killed Madarame and Kobayakawa." He lifts his index finger. "Option Two. The Phantom Thieves didn't kill Madarame or Kobayakawa. A drug addict killed Madarame, and Kobayakawa killed himself."

"That _has_ to be it," Ryuji replies.

Akira catches Morgana's eye. The cat looks _very_ uncomfortable. "What's the next option, Akira?" Morgana asks.

Akira lifts his middle finger. "Option Three. The Phantom Thieves didn't kill Madarame or Kobayakawa. Someone else did. Or, they did in one but not the other."

No one says anything for a time. One by one, the Phantom Thieves glance at one another, eyes wide, mouths shut.

Then, Ann breaks the silence. "What, exactly, makes you say that?"

Akira frowns. "I can't help but think Ohya's right. But not for the reason she thinks. To her, there's only Option One and Option Two. But think about it, guys. Madarame confesses, and then two hours later, someone else - who can't remember either hearing or seeing the confession - kills him? And two days ago, the Principal of Shujin Academy, where the Phantom Thieves struck first, kills himself, but not before writing a suicide note where he mentions us, specifically?"

He looks at each of them. Only Morgana's eyes flicker with realization. The others look confused. "Pretend you're not Phantom Thieves," Akira says. "Pretend you don't know anything about the Metaverse, or Palaces or whatever. If someone just spelled everything out to you, like I just did, what would you think?"

It clicks for Yusuke first. "I would think the Phantom Thieves might've had a hand in Sensei's death, as well as the supposed suicide of the Principal."

Ann looks down at her feet. "No way."

Ryuji's brows furrow, and he shrugs. "Okay, but so what? _We_ know the truth. _We_ know we didn't do anything to those guys, so what's the problem?"

"That's not what he's saying, Bonehead," Morgana hisses. "Think about what it all means!"

Akira nods. "Maybe Ohya's half-right. Maybe someone really did kill Madarame and Kobayakawa. She thinks the Phantom Thieves did it, but we know that's wrong. But _we're_ the only ones who can prove that. And if that's the case, and someone else did kill Madarame and Kobayakawa, then-"

Yusuke interrupts. "Then they're looking to hoist the blame for their deaths onto us."

"Exactly," Akira says. Ryuji mouth drops open. Akira gives him a small smile. "Sorry, man. But that's not the worst of it, either."

"For real?" The blonde asks.

"If someone is able to do that? Kill Madarame and Kobayakawa and blame it on us, then that would mean-"

This time, it's Morgana who interrupts. "That would mean someone else knows about the Metaverse."

Ryuji's mouth hangs open. "Dude," he says.

Everyone drifts into silence.

#

But what can they do?

They can plan, and they do, but to what end? They make decisions. They decide. And then that's all they can do.

Ryuji and Ann leave at the same time.

Yusuke sticks around for a bit. He's got to pack the remainder of his sparse things before he heads to the Kosei dorms.

Akira doesn't know what to say to him. Given the bomb he dropped on them, he hasn't even gotten to talk about Madarame's death, and how it has affected his friend.

And then, Yusuke picks up the _Sayuri_ and brings it to Akira. "Here," he says.

Akira reaches for it without thinking, and only after it is in his hands, does he ask, "What're you doing?"

"I would like you to have it," Yusuke says, with a nod.

"Yusuke, I can't, come on-"

Yusuke lifts a hand to stop him. "Please. It deserves a place of honor. And I can think of no better place than the headquarters of our little group of troublemakers." He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "Besides, I feel that, were I to hang it in my dorm room, it would draw regrettable attention, given the 'Great _Sayuri_ Scandal." He grins. "For me, it will be enough to see it when we convene to discuss our thievery."

Akira glances away. "You know, you don't have to just come over for that."

"Yeah," Morgana says, from the bed. "You're welcome here, anytime!"

"Thank you," Yusuke replies. "I am aware. Boss stated that seeing as how I was the one millionth customer to his establishment, I would have a year's worth of free curry."

Akira opens his mouth to say, "That's not-" and then he shuts it. "Cool," he says, instead. He looks down at the _Sayuri_. "But I'm just going to hold this for you, got it?"

"Of course," Yusuke says, and shoulders his pack. He glances at the other paintings, shoved away in the corner. "I shall endeavor soon to relieve you of them, as well. We still have Sensei's mirrored GPS, yes?"

Akira nods.

Yusuke hesitates before he reaches the stairs. "I felt hopeless, you know," he says.

"Huh?" Akira asks. Morgana hops off the bed and walks up alongside him. The two glance at one another.

"When Madarame kicked me out, and got me expelled all in one stroke of villainy. I felt utterly hopeless. And yet, here I am. I have come out the other side, not unscathed, but whole." He looks back at Akira. "I can see the worry on your face, my friend. But we _will_ make it through to the other side. Because we are the Phantom Thieves. And that is what the Phantom Thieves do. Escort people through, as they escorted me. All we must do, is escort ourselves."

Akira smiles. "You know, I'm gonna miss having you as a roommate, Yusuke."

Yusuke shakes his head. "I'm afraid I do not feel the same way. As I've said, you snore." He nods to Morgana. "You have my sympathies, Morgana. Farewell."

Then, he turns, and heads down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's a little early, but who cares, right?
> 
> Gotta say, while the first four episodes really didn't do it for me, I kind of enjoyed this last episode. Got some Makoto. Got some Sae. Got some Akechi being a straight-up bitch. 
> 
> Also, fun fact: turns out I spent my honeymoon in the hotel the Phantom Thieves partied in! That's right! You heard it here first: I'm one of those shitty adults Ryuji is always complaining about! Who knew?
> 
> Now, today was the Kentucky Derby, so I've had a few drinks. I'll try to be as succinct as I can. Thank you, everyone. Thank you for reading. Thank you for commenting. Thank you for telling your friends about Crimson. Thank you for talking about it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It means so damn much to me.
> 
> The next chapter will be up on Wednesday! I'll see you then!


	57. Oneirology

5/31

 

He opens his eyes. Something is wrong with the walls. They are not his. A thin, viscous membrane boxes him in. It is the pink shade of the inside of a throat. Bleached spires stretch through them, up to the ceiling. Ribs. Bones. They are smooth.

There's someone at his desk. He sits with his arms resting, folded, on the chair's back.

"I'm just here to talk," his father whispers.

Akira sits up, his blanket peeling away like sloughed skin. He is bare-chested, which is not how he went to bed. Morgana is gone. Morgana is somewhere else.

His mouth opens, but his lips don't move. "Although Nobunaga was Nobuhide's legitimate successor, the Oda clan divided into many factions, and the clan was technically under the control of Owari's shugo, Shiba Yoshimune." The voice is not his own. Inui-sensei's droning escapes from between his teeth.

"I never hurt her," his father continues. "Never hit her. Never spoke down to her. Never betrayed her." In the dark, his eyes narrow. "But you don't see it that way."

"By 1559, Nobunaga had eliminated all opposition within the clan and Owari Province. He continued to use Shiba Yoshikane as a pretext to make peace with the other daimyos, though it was later discovered that Yoshikane had secretly corresponded with the Kira and Imagawa clans, attempting to oust Nobunaga and restore the Shiba clan's place."

His father replies, "I knew you'd say that."

The walls vibrate, as if a heartbeat inched through them. Akira looks at his hands. On his left, on the appropriate finger, is a ring. It gleams in the black around him. It grows brighter, sears, and begins to sink into his skin. He digs at it, claws with his fingernails, but the more he tries, the more his nails tear from him, punctuated each time with the _click_ of handcuffs. Then, the ring is gone, buried in his skin. A raw and blistered fence circumnavigates his finger.

"Those things are tricky," his father says. His words are deep and his enunciation is off. "Shouldn't bother with them." Akira can feel the words ready to vomit forth once more, but his father continues. "You're an idiot if you think the cat knows everything. Stare into the fire, and play too much with it, and you won't notice the water until you've drowned. Pudding knew more, but you forgot. Dabbled in the arts for too long. Now he's mixed in concrete. Can't ask a sidewalk questions. Too bad ghosts ain't real."

There's something behind his father, something writhing behind the membrane that's stolen away his walls. "When Nobunaga launched a campaign into the Asakura clan's domain, Azai Nagamasa, to whom Oichi was married, broke the alliance with Oda to honor the Azai-Asakura-"

"No," his father growls. "No. No. No." Somehow, his father bows, while still staying seated. When he reverts back into something resembling real, he whispers, "Hail to the King. No one gets a throne without horses and men."

And finally, Akira is able to hiss out a response all his own. "I'm _not_ you."

His father smiles then. His teeth are blackened with dye, but blaze in the dark all the same. Shadows rise in the corners. "You sound real fucking sure of that."

Hands press on the mucous walls, dimple them with fingertips and fall in. The hands become arms, the arms become bodies, the bodies all have heads. Ann. Ryuji. Yusuke. Haru.

Makoto.

Others too. Others he recognizes. Others he doesn't.

Then his father is no longer in the chair, he is in bed with him. Akira no longer sits up, he is prone, pinned, though no part of his father touches him. His father grins his reaper's teeth. His voice is an icy whisper and his breath is as of the grave. " _Liar_."

Akira jerks awake as the sun peeks above the cityscape. Morgana lies curled next to him. His walls are normal. No bones. No pink. No hands nor heads.

His desk's chair is empty, but for the life of him, he cannot remember if it remains in the same position he'd left it the night before.

#

Morgana readies his story, as the window to Kobayakawa's office finally gives. "About time," he grumbles, and slides it open with his paw. He will, of course, regale everyone with how easy this infiltration was for someone of his stature.

He hops clear of the sill and lands on the hardwood floor. A sniff, and the citrus stink of cleaning supplies shoves its way up his nose. He shakes his head and sticks his tongue out. When he finally becomes human again, having a diminished sense of smell will be a blessing.

_Now, gotta find that file_. He pads his way up to Kobayakawa's desk and starts to yank out the drawers. They are, infuriatingly, locked. "Seriously?" Morgana hisses, and draws his claws once more. Picking locks is a lot easier with an _actual_ lock pick.

One by one, they click open. He pulls them out, and sticks his head in. They are filled with ledgers, with documents pertaining to school. One holds a number of newspaper clippings, revolving around Shujin's successes. "Where the heck is it?"

Kobayakawa's file, the one he had shown Makoto, had to have more information in it. _Some kind of lead. If there really were others who could access the Metaverse, well..._

It would be bad. Real bad. Morgana knew there were holes in his memory. He knew he didn't know everything about the Metaverse. But if he had _once_ known this, and it had slipped into whatever black space his recollections had fled?

His eyes narrow, and he continues his search, meticulous.

There's nothing. Not in the man’s desk. Not in the cabinets on the opposite wall. Not in any hidden compartments he'd scoured for, as a last resort. Wherever that file was, it wasn't in this room. He'd read Kobayakawa's other documentation as he'd searched, hoping that something would indicate anything. Anything about the Phantom Thieves. Anything about his connections. Anything about his death. But again, nothing.

There wasn't even a random piece of notepaper with 'The Phantom Thieves' scrawled across it. Morgana pauses as he returns to the window. _That's kind of weird_. You’d think the Principal of the school where the Phantom Thieves first struck would have _something_ pertaining to said group, in his office.

Morgana scowls, hops up to the window sill, and leaves.

He meets Akira, Ann, and Ryuji in the alley across from the school, and informs them of what he found.

Akira, who evidently hadn't slept well – going by the circles under his eyes – nods. Ryuji does his share of frustrated mewling. Ann asks, "What do we do now?"

"There's only one other place I can think it would be." Akira pushes his fingertips into the brick of the alley's wall, as if testing their give. Then, he pulls his phone out and shows them an address.

"What's that?" Morgana asks.

"Kobayakawa's apartment building."

Ryuji and Ann glance at one another, then back at the phone. "How'd you find that?" Ann asks, brows arching, voice lilting into suspicion.

A shrug. "Wasn't hard. The news hasn't named Kobayakawa as the suicide yet, but based on what Ohya told me, a simple search led right to, 'Man Jumps from Tokyo Apartment Complex.'"

Morgana makes a show of cracking his neck from side to side. "Looks like another infiltration. Should we get going?"

"No," Akira says. There's something in his voice. Something heavy and worn. "All of us going would look suspicious. You're going to meet up with Yusuke, Morgana. He's the only one who wasn't in that file. Ryuji and I will head to Untouchable."

"And I promised to go see Shiho," Ann puts in.

Akira keeps his eyes on Morgana. "You and Yusuke figure out which is Kobayakawa's apartment. Then, you break in, and see if you can find the file. Once you're out, have Yusuke bring you around Shibuya station. I've got my gig at Rafflesia tonight."

Ryuji raises his hand in the air, as if he were in class. "So, like, what happens if the file ain't in Kobayakawa's pad?"

Morgana watches as Akira's eyes glaze a bit, a look he's come to associate with hard thinking. "If it's not there, then maybe he's got it hidden somewhere else. Or maybe he shredded it, or burned it. Or maybe someone else came along after he was dead and took it. Maybe the police dug through his apartment, found it, and it's sitting in some evidence locker, waiting to incriminate us. Or maybe some space aliens flew down from Mars and beamed it aboard their fucking mothership. I don't know."

Ann looks ready to chastise, but Ryuji sets his hand on Akira's shoulder. "Dude, you okay?"

A long sigh hisses out through his teeth. He raises thumb and forefinger to his face, pushes his glasses up, and rubs his eyes. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Ryuji grins. "Hangin' in that Velvet place? Making some more badass Personas?"

Akira's smile doesn't look close to real. "Nope. Just regular old nightmares."

Ann blinks. "Hey, wait a second." Her brows furrow. "This Igor thing, the guy with the nose? You said he's the one who gave us the Navigation app, right?"

"Yeah," Akira drawls.

"Well, why don't you ask him if he's given it to anyone else? You know, aside from us."

Akira lifts his gaze to Ann's face and stares at her. Then, a loopy grin splits his face, and an exhausted laugh leaks from him. "Holy shit. You're right."

Ann stiffens, as if waiting for a 'but.'

Akira shakes his head, and some of the weariness leaves his face. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. Igor gave us access. Maybe he gave it to someone else too." He spreads his hands in a wide shrug. "Like, 'Duh!'"

Ann finally smiles, and blushes a bit. "It was just a thought."

Ryuji nods vigorously. "That's one freakin' smart thought, Ann!"

"You're a genius, Lady Ann!" Morgana puts in.

"Alright." Akira nods down at Morgana. "Let's go meet Yusuke. Then, we're heading to Untouchable. Tonight, I'll go to the Velvet Room and ask Igor about the Metaverse." The brightness cools on his face by degrees.

The group breaks apart.

#

Akira is beginning to recognize Iwai's scowl by degrees. There's the 'what'd you want now?' scowl that typically ornaments his face. That one tends to melt into, 'Don't waste my time,' and eventually becomes, 'We done yet?'

Today, however, the tight white slash across his face is something new. His eyes only casually rest on the knickknacks Akira presents him. His fingers reach out, prod and poke, then return to his lap. He quotes a figure. Akira agrees, a bit disappointed.

Ryuji bumbles his way through the back of the shop, eyeing shotguns and the like, but really looking to smoke out any additional customers who may be hibernating. He flashes Akira a nod from down the aisle, and Akira reaches into his bag and pulls out the card skimmer and mini-camera.

"Thanks for these." He slides them across the table towards Iwai, jumbles them up amongst all the junk he's bought off them.

"Hope it helped."

"It did."

Iwai had bombarded Akira with a heavy silence when the latter had asked the former for, 'something that can mimic a keycard, and its passcode.' He'd known it was a risk, being so up front about it, but how else could he have phrased it? There was really only one thing a card skimmer could be used for.

It was, when stripped of its excess parts, a pretty simple plan. Set up the skimmer in Natsuki Storage, with a mini-camera covertly installed directly across the hall. Goad Madarame into rushing to his storage unit, thereby capturing the card's signature, and the passcode. Leave with the reader and camera, eliminating any trace of their presence, and use the stolen data to fool the device in Madarame's Palace. It had all hinged on Morgana's stealth, Yusuke's acting, and Iwai's ability to come through.

And it had been a resounding success.

Iwai had capitulated, and agreed to get him the requested 'materials.' Of course, Akira was in debt to him now, as the fee quoted was not something he could successfully pay-off. Not with jobs at a flower shop in the mall, or serving soda at a bar in Shinjuku.

'You'll help me with things,' Iwai had informed him, then.

'What things?' He'd asked, naturally.

'Things.' And that was that. Iwai wouldn't elaborate, and Akira hoped this wouldn't turn out like all those movies - where this exact thing happened - did.

Iwai snatches the card reader and camera from the counter, and sets them in a drawer, out of sight. "Anything else?"

"No," Akira replies. Iwai nods and sets about clearing the Metaverse crap away. He steps into his back office, and returns in a few moments with a plump envelope. He slides it over to Akira, who takes it and shoves it deep into his bag. Akira stands there for a few moments, but when the man says nothing, gives him a half-hearted, "See you around, then," and heads towards the door, motioning for Ryuji to follow.

"Kid," Iwai says, when he plants his hand on the door handle.

Akira looks back. "Yeah?"

"Be careful. Shibuya's gettin' dangerous."

Akira looks at Ryuji, who shrugs. "Uh, think you could elaborate on that?"

"Nah," Iwai replies, and shakes his head. "I'm good."

Akira frowns. "Okay, then. Thanks for the head's up, I guess."

#

Ryuji pulls the manga from the shelf, flips to the final page, and groans. _They_ still _don't resolve the fight? It's been, like, ten volumes already!_ He shoves it back onto the shelf with a muttered, "For cryin' out loud..." and sees a familiar face down the aisle.

Akira had left for his flower shop job, but Ryuji hadn't been ready to call it a day yet. He was behind on his reading, so had stopped by the bookstore in Shibuya to catch up on his favorite series. Plus, he really needed to give his brain a break from the whole, ‘someone else may be sneaking into the Metaverse and looking to frame us,’ thing.

He cuts down the aisle towards the person he recognizes, a grin split across his face. "Yo, Maehara!" He calls, when he's close enough. The boy straightens with a jolt, nearly dropping the manga in his hands. He practically jumps when Ryuji slaps him on the shoulder.

"O-oh. Hey, Sakamoto."

"How's it goin', man?" He peers down at the book he holds. "Aw, rad. I've been reading that one too. Isn't it freakin' badass?"

Maehara's smile is small and phony. "Y-yeah. I guess so. Pretty cool."

"You okay?" Ryuji asks. He doesn't know Maehara well, but he looks pale. Paler than the last time he'd seen him, and he'd been getting beaten up in an alley then.

"I'm fine," Maehara replies, quick.

Ryuji knows he's not the sharpest... whatever, but even he can tell something's up. _Oh shit. It can't be Daisuke, right? We changed his heart!_ "Daisuke's not giving you grief, is he? I thought the Phantom Thieves took care of him."

"He's not. And they did. It's just-"

"'Just' what?"

Maehara lets out a frustrated huff. "It'd be nice if they helped him out too."

Above them, the A/C kicks into full force, and a gush of cool air spreads across his skin like tiny pinpricks. "What're you talking about?" Ryuji asks.

"Daisuke stopped picking on me, which is great. But there were these kids who were making him do that. So, when he stopped taking my money and bullying me, they really started giving it to him. Said he had to make up the difference."

"For real?" Ryuji asks. Daisuke's shadow had alluded to some kind of bullying ring at Shujin, but he hadn't seen anyone giving him a hard time. Not that he could recall.

Maehara nods. "It got really bad. They, uh, well, they beat him up so badly, they put him in the hospital. Broke his arm and everything. It was awful."

"Are you freakin' kidding?" Ryuji asks. A few customers glance their way. "They _broke_ his arm?"

"Uh-huh. And all because he stopped picking on me. And not just me. Daisuke isn't hurting anyone. So, they're hurting him."

Ryuji sighs. "That sucks, dude." _Just one thing to do_. He sets a hand on Maehara's shoulder. "But hey, there's a way out, yeah? Have him put in a request with the Phantom Thieves, right? They helped you out, after all."

Maehara blinks at him, and his face falls lower. "That's just it. He _has_ been making requests."

"What?"

Maehara pulls his phone out of his pocket. "He's been following all the rules. He sent the private messages to the PhanSite. He even asked me to help him put together a request. He's been sending one almost every day for the last week." He turns the screen towards Ryuji. His eyes run over the messages.

_'Please help me, Phantom Thieves. I'm really screwed here. I know you guys changed my heart, and I know what I did was wrong, but now these others guys are picking on me..._ '

\--

_'His name is Yoshimori Sakoda and he's the head of this group at my school. They keep beating me up and I think it's going to get a lot worse..._ '

\--

_'Please! I get it, okay? I was a dick! I was an asshole! But, please, stop this guy..._ '

\--

_'Why won't you help?! It's getting worse! This guy's gonna fucking kill me! Where are you, Phantom Thieves?'_

_\--_

Ryuji takes a step back from Maehara. "Son of a bitch," he whispers.

“I even sent a request in on behalf of him,” Maehara says. “I figured, since they helped me before, maybe they'd hear me out again. But I haven't gotten a response." He shrugs. "There isn't much anyone can do, I guess. The Phantom Thieves just took down that Madarame guy. They were probably busy." Maehara's phone vibrates and he glances at it. "Oh geez, I gotta go. See you later, Sakamoto."

"Yeah," Ryuji replies, as Maehara heads for the exit. "Later."

#

Akira wishes Morgana were with him. The cat's penchant for absurdity has always managed to regulate Akira's own thoughts, especially as they pertained to Haru. For every bizarre thing that popped into Morgana's head, Akira could offer a calm alternative. Given that Morgana was off infiltrating a dead Principal's apartment, that left Akira with only his own conjectures.

Therefore, Haru's behavior births a headache the size of his fist behind his eyes.

Every few moments, he casts a glance her way. Whether he's watering the plants, moving the fertilizer, adjusting the merchandise, or helping a customer, he always finds his gaze circling back towards her.

And finds her casting a few looks his way as well. Whenever she sees him staring, her eyes dart away and she returns to whatever it was she was doing.

It’s not just the looks either. Everything about her seems so deflated today. Her skin is a touch paler than he’s seen it before. Her normally puffy hair is absent its buoyancy. Even her clothes seem like faded copies of her regular outfit, as if someone produced them on one of those bulky, out of date printers the school kept in supply closets.

Because Morgana isn't there to temper his rationality with crazy, Akira's mind goes straight to bonkers. _What’s going on with her? I expected her to give me shit about Makoto or something, but she hasn’t said two words to me. Is she plotting something? A sneak attack? An ambush?_ He wonders, briefly, if Makoto is hiding in the ceiling somewhere, adorned in a ninja outfit, which leads to a particularly unhelpful tangent about just what Makoto would look like in a ninja outfit - a tight one. He has to physical shake his head to clear his mind of _that_.

_No. Not that. It’s something else._ He glances back towards her. She almost looks a little afraid of him.

Eventually, it's too much for him. "Hey, Haru?" He asks, and hates how tentative his voice sounds.

She looks up at him then, from where she had been notating stock. "Yes?" She asks. Her voice is faint, but polite.

"Are you okay?" He doesn't point out that she hasn’t threatened him once this shift.

"Fine, thank you."

Akira nods, and feels himself begin to grasp at straws. "Sorry Mona-chan's not here. He, uh, had a prior engagement."

"I'm sure," Haru replies.

"I know you want to take pictures with him, so maybe I can drop him off with you this weekend?"

"Mmmhmm."

Akira stands next to her, a spray bottle in his hand. "Haru, seriously. Is everything alright?"

Her response is silence, and Akira starts to walk away, when she suddenly blurts. "What's your-” But then Hanasaki-san sticks her head into the storeroom and calls, "Oh, Kurusu-kun?"

He turns to her. "Yes?"

"Would you mind coming out to the front? There's a young man here to see you. He's rather insistent."

Akira pictures Yusuke in his mind. Had something happened to Morgana? Akira speeds his way out to the storefront.

He stops when he finds Ryuji, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes flickering back and forth, foot tapping away on the tiled floor.

"Dude," the blonde boy says, when he sees him. "Could I talk to you for a sec?"

"Like I said," Hanasaki says, behind him. He can almost hear the strained smile. " _Insistent_."

"R-right." Akira turns to her and bows. "I'm very sorry about this. Please, excuse me for just a moment."

She nods, face never wavering. Akira suppresses a gulp. Hanasaki-san has been good to him. He'd rather not get on her bad side.

Akira sidles up to Ryuji, pats his friend on the shoulder and whispers, "What're you doing, man? I'm working."

"I gotta talk to you. It couldn't wait."

"Is it about...?" He lets the implication hang.

Ryuji nods. "Obviously! I wouldn't bother you about something that ain't important."

Akira leads his friend down the hall, away from the Shibuya Underground. It’s a long, mostly silent hallway, heading off towards a service corridor. "What's going on?"

"Did you know about Daisuke?" Ryuji asks.

Akira blinks. "Daisuke? Are you talking about Takanashi?"

"I just saw Maehara at the bookshop, Akira. He told me Daisuke is in the hospital. Those guys he used to hang with beat the shit out of him. They broke his freakin' arm."

Akira glances back towards the crowds. No one's paying attention to the two teenagers down the hall, in the dim light.. "Ryuji, just chill, okay?"

"Chill?" Ryuji's eyes are all wide and white. "Did you see the requests he was putting in? On the PhanSite?"

"I-"

"You're the _admin_ , man. Don't tell me you didn't."

Akira's chest feels like it's bubbling with carbonated soda. "Yes," he says. "I saw them. I saw the requests, but-"

"But you didn't say anything." Ryuji puts his hands on his head. "Dude, why? Why didn't you say anything to rest of us?"

"Because we got dozens and dozens of requests, Ryuji. And we needed to focus on Madarame. For Yusuke's sake."

Ryuji scowls. "I get that, okay. I do. But Daisuke is in the freakin' hospital, man! Because of what _we_ did."

"No," Akira shakes his head. "It's not on us, Ryuji. We changed his heart. We didn't paint a target on his back."

"Bullshit," Ryuji replies. He glares at Akira, now. "We told you that Daisuke's shadow was worried about the bullies at Shujin. But we didn't do anything about it."

"We _talked_ about this," Akira hisses. "If we kept helping people at Shujin, then it would've been obvious we were connected _to_ Shujin. And at that time, Daisuke hadn't put in any requests."

"But he's put them in now, hasn't he? He's freaking out. He thinks they're gonna kill him. Are we just going to ignore it, because he's a Shujin student? Or because he was a target?"

"Ryuji, look, I need to get back to work. We can talk about this later."

"We need to help Daisuke," Ryuji says. "It's our fault he's getting kicked around by those assholes."

Akira runs through his options. _Talking him out of it will be tough. Do I really need another member of the team pissed at me?_ And if there were others out there with access to the Metaverse, _they_ needed to take priority.

_Plus, if we help Daisuke, it'll make it more obvious that we're Shujin students._

Akira keeps his face passive even as he grinds his teeth. He’s too tired for this fucking shit. Every _single_ time he decides on a course of action, the others just pile on their crap. Akira’s mouth opens before he can help himself, but then he looks Ryuji in the eye.

Really looks at him.

And he remembers the look on his friend’s face.

Back when it was just the two of them. Back before even Morgana. Back before they knew what the Metaverse was. Back before Palaces and Mementos and Calling Cards and all of it.

Akira remembers asking Ryuji, ‘ _You think he actually is hurting people, over here?’_

And Ryuji had glanced around, back by the front gate of Shujin, and had given him the same look he’s giving him now. _‘I know he hurts people. I see a lot of guys on the volleyball team with bruises and slings. And sometimes I see the girls looking like that too.’_

And just like that, Akira had known they’d needed to do something.

He remembered Arsene’s question, and he remembered his answer.

_Has it really been only two months?_ Not even that.

Akira takes a deep breath, and thinks. Maybe there was another way to do it? A way to keep it secret? _What if we fulfilled a bunch of requests at once? Small time stuff, nothing big._ Nothing like Madarame or Kamoshida. At least until they could get a handle on just what was going on out there.

Akira lets the air out of his lungs and says, "Okay, we'll help Daisuke. We'll have to be careful, though. No rushing. We need to stay anonymous."

Ryuji's scowl turns into a grin, and his shoulders slump in relief. "Man, I knew I could count on you to do the right thing." He chuckles a bit and rubs the back of his head. "Sorry I got so heated. It's just that hearing about Daisuke really got me rattled."

"Clearly," Akira replies, and paints a considerate smile across his own face. "We'll figure it out, okay? But I've really got to get back to work."

"Yeah, of course. Sorry again, man. I'll see you." He holds out his fist.

Akira bumps it, and turns back towards Rafflesia. _That’s all well and good, but how the hell am I_ actually _going to pull it off?_

#

Morgana's investigation is a bust. Yusuke had successfully brought him to Kobayakawa's place, and thanks to a conveniently labeled doorbell system, had figured out which apartment belonged to the deceased.

Morgana had snuck inside, and poked around. But, like his office, Kobayakawa's apartment was absent any information on the Phantom Thieves, any hint of some larger conspiracy, and any clue as to why he might kill himself.

Akira had related the story of Ryuji's discovery to the cat, and Morgana had made the correct protestations. Akira didn't know what to tell him. He'd already committed to helping Daisuke, and he couldn't risk Ryuji's ire along with Ann's.

As he lay down to sleep, he recalled the nightmare from earlier. The hands pushing their way through the membrane. The ghastly figures squeezing their way towards him, grasping and gnawing.

He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Velvet Room.

And when he shifts, the crinkle of chains accompanies it.

He opens his eyes to the clammy cell, the slow _drip drip_ in the corner, and the distant moaning. He rises, stands, and moves to the barred door.

Igor smiles through the metal at him. "Trickster," he exclaims, spindly hands spread wide in greeting. "It is, as always, a pleasure to see you again."

Two familiar presences shift behind him. "Will you be requiring our services, inmate?" Justine asks. Caroline is quiet, much to his relief.

"Actually, I had a question for you, Igor." He wraps his hands around the bars. His knuckles become white blisters.

"Oh?" The man-thing replies. "How interesting. Please, ask and I shall answer if I possess the capacity to do so."

_Here goes_. "You're the one who's given my friends and me the ability to enter the Metaverse."

"That is not your question, but yes."

"Right. You put Navigation app on our phones."

Igor inclines his head towards the rotting desk. "I did, indeed. All to aid you in your rehabilitation."

"Okay. So my question is this. Did you give the app to anyone else? Anyone I don't know about?"

Igor stares at him. Akira watches, but feels himself waver at whatever he sees behind the thing's eyes. He realizes he knows nothing about this creature. Nothing about this otherworldly entity that seems intent on helping him. Why was he even doing this? What did he get out of it? Anything? Where did he come from?

Igor's response comes in a single syllable. "No."

#

Akira leaves, fades away to his reality.

From her place in the Velvet Room, Caroline glances at Justine. Justine looks at Caroline.

Without turning to face either of them, their Master growls, “Have you something to say, girls?”

Justine answers for the both of them. “No, Master.”

Caroline stays silent, eyes on the back of her Master’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hump Day, everyone! 
> 
> ...
> 
> Sorry, I'd say more but I'm pretty wiped. I'm still adjusting the new hours at work, and they require me to wake up a lot earlier than I'm used to.
> 
> But hey! Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it, as always! And with this chapter, we've finished May! Onto June!


	58. Meeting Minutes

6/1

 

Makoto breathes. Slow. Rhythmic.

Her assailant's arms tighten.

Adrenaline kicks and she moves. Reaches up. Grabs. Holds. Pivots.

She feels their body collapse across and over her back as she pitches forward, as she pulls. Then she is light again, and a cry of brief panic is snuffed by a smack from the mat and an "Oof!"

A wince, and she offers apologies. "Was that too hard?"

Haru lays, spread-eagled, and blinks at the ceiling. She smells of sweat and cinnamon, and manages to make her groan charming.

Makoto speeds to the mat's edge, snatches up the two plastic water bottles, returns, and hands one down to her.

Haru's arm flops like a choking fish for a moment, then reaches up and takes it. "I'm afraid I'm not quite used to this," she mumbles and takes a swig.

Makoto folds herself down next to her. "There's nothing wrong with that." After a sip, she continues. "You're pretty good for a beginner." She thinks of adding, 'I used to be much worse,' but that would be a lie. Makoto has always had, as her father used to say, 'A talent for connecting her fists with things.'

Her friend smiles and forces herself to sit up. "Is everything supposed to hurt?"

Makoto shrugs and smirks. "Yes."

"Wonderful."

She hears the whistling before the footsteps. The older man, the one who had tried to coax a 'smile' from her, enters the gym. His jaunty tune falters when he spies her, and when he sees the look she gives him, he turns on his heel and marches back out. Makoto feels a contented purr in her chest, like a low-rumbling engine, and suppresses a smile.

"Who was that?" Haru asks.

"Some jerk."

"Oh."

"Speaking of," Makoto says, her voice rising a degree. "Are you okay? Regarding Sugimura?"

Haru's eyes dip toward the mat. "I'm alright. He's been distracted lately. His father keeps bringing him to these important meetings, so I haven't seen him much."

Makoto nods because she's not sure what else to do. The basic self-defense. The constant check-ins. There has to be _something_ more she can do. "Haru," she says, as delicate as she can. "If you don't want to do this; if you don't want to marry him, why are you going through with it? Why don't you ask your father to cancel the engagement?"

Haru stands, quiet. She lifts the pair of gloves from the edge of the mat, and approaches the punching bag. "Would you mind holding it?" She asks.

"S-sure." Makoto walks over, takes a position behind the bag, and settles pressure upon it.

Haru throws a punch. It's not terrible. Makoto offers a pointer. Her next is better. The one after that is harder. The one after that, faster.

Haru hits the bag again and again. Sweat escapes her pulled back hair. "My first memory of my father is him arguing with my grandfather."

Makoto doesn't reply.

"I mean," Haru continues. "I have earlier memories, but they're just pieces. A smile. A hug. Being picked up. Him shouting at someone. But the first, real, solid memory I have of him is him fighting with my grandfather. It was over food, of all things." She throws another punch, loses her footing, and steadies herself against the bag. "They were arguing over the proper way to cook something. I think. I just remember them being so intense about it. Later, the two of them were sitting in our living room, laughing about something completely different. My father looked so happy then. My grandfather too." Another punch. "Then, my grandfather died and father changed. Smiled less. Argued less. Ordered more. I didn't notice, of course. I was young, very young. I had to hear about it in passing from his assistants, his employees, and my mother."

Haru pauses in her assault, and stares at the bag. "I've made my displeasure over my situation clear. I've tried to speak to my father about it. I've tried to make him understand. He doesn't. I think, he thinks, that this is all for the betterment of our family. I think, he thinks, he can manipulate the Sugimuras. Maybe he expects me to do it for him."

Makoto speaks. "But that's not you."

Haru shakes her head. "That's why I started working at the flower shop. I just wanted to do something for me, and not for the family. Because, when he says, 'Do something for the family,' what he really means is, 'Do something for me.'" With a low grunt, Haru hits the bag again. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I've never really said any of this out loud before. Everything makes sense in my head, but when I try to let it out, it comes out in a jumble. Does that make sense?"

Makoto offers her a smile. "Oh, I know exactly what you mean."

Haru sighs and leans forward, draping herself across the bag. Makoto keeps the pressure up, so it doesn't buckle under her. "Doesn't your father make ridiculous requests of you sometimes?"

The words hit Makoto like a freight train. Her mind switches off, and it's all she can do to keep her grip on the bag.

Haru pushes away and blinks. "Mako-chan? Are you alright?"

"I, um... my dad is, well..."

Haru's eyes study her face, then widen by degrees. "You live with your sister," she whispers. Then, louder, "You live with your _sister!_ Oh, Makoto, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I didn't think."

Makoto steps away from the bag. "It's okay." She tries to smile. "I just wasn't expecting that."

Haru buries her face in her hands. "Oh, I'm _so_ dumb! You even said we'd be at you and your sister's apartment. It didn't even dawn on me."

"It's fine," Makoto tells her, voice insistent. "Really, it is." Except it isn't. Her mouth is moving before she can stop it. "It's been three years."

Three years is a strange amount of time. It's long enough to feel like the distant past, but short enough to still be fresh.

And just like that, she's back in that house. Sae stands in the foyer, listening to the officers, who hold their caps in their hands. Their heads are bowed, their mouths barely moving.

Her sister is shaking.

Makoto is waiting. She's waiting to be told that everything is okay. That everything will be fine. She's waiting to be told that the most horrible thing that could've happened, hasn't happened.

"He was a police officer," Makoto says. "Our mother died when we were little. She got sick. Even though he was always busy, he spent as much time as he could with us." Makoto doesn't remember sitting back down on the gym's floor, but that's where she finds herself. Haru sits alongside her, listening.

"Things had been scary," she says. "He'd been investigating this group. They were trafficking drugs and girls. They threatened him. Threatened all of us."

Haru whispers, "D-did they..." But she can't finish.

"Kill him?" Makoto asks. "No, they didn’t. It was a few days after my sister graduated law school. Dad got hit by a truck. The driver was on drugs. He didn't even remember doing it. He was killed by the impact."

"I'm so sorry, Makoto."

“It's alright. Sorry. We were talking about your situation, and I made it about me."

Haru shakes her head. "I asked. And you should always feel free to talk to me about that stuff, even if it's hard." She smiles. "We're friends, yes?"

Makoto grins. "Right. We're friends."

Haru sighs. "Perhaps we should change topics? Prepare for our upcoming interview with Mona-chan?”

Makoto laughs. “Sure.” The word comes out harsher than she meant. She finds Haru’s eyes tunneling into her own. “What?”

“We haven’t really discussed Madarame’s death, have we? Well, we did. But you didn’t really say much about it.”

Makoto glances back down towards her feet. “That’s because I’m not sure what to say about it.”

Haru doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, “You don’t really think Akira and his friends… _killed_ him, do you? _”_

Makoto fixes Haru with her own gaze. “Do you?”

Haru blushes, and looks away. “Well, I don’t really know Akira as well as you, so I couldn’t really say.”

Makoto doesn’t reply. She didn’t want to think it. Didn’t like to think it. Couldn’t help but think it. _It’s only one possibility. A faint possibility at that. Akira’s not a killer. He’s…_

What?

What was he? A cute schoolboy she’d flirted with for a few weeks? How long had she known him? Less than two months. What did she really know about him? He had _assaulted_ someone, after all.

She winces. Remembers the last time she had a real conversation with Sis. How she’d been wrapped in Sae’s arms, staring down at the file on their living room table, and she’d said, _‘He pulled the fire alarm. He got me out of there. So, I don’t care what that says about him.’_

But what if she’d been wrong? Akira Kurusu had saved her from Kamoshida. He had risked himself for her. That had to mean _something._ But then, he’d lied through his teeth to her. Tried to trick her. Obfuscate her. Paired up with Takamaki to try and break her heart.

“You’re wrong,” Makoto says, as Haru starts to fidget from the quiet.

“I’m sorry?” Haru asks.

Makoto looks up at her friend, her only friend, and mutters, “I’m starting to think I don’t know Akira Kurusu, at all.”

#

Lala looms behind him. He can feel her, towering, her eyes drilling holes into the back of his head. The patrons stare at him, unblinking, jaws set, hands cupped tight around their drinks.

Akira fights the urge to swallow. He fails.

"Answer the question, Akira," Lala growls. Her words offer no room to escape.

He sighs, lowers his eyes, and says, "No, I haven't set things right with Makoto."

A great cacophony of groans escape the bar patrons. Some throw their hands in the air. Others shake their heads.

Lala steps clear of him, shaking her head. "You, young man, are hopeless."

Akira begins to protest. "But it's..."

Lala holds up a solitary finger. "Boy, I swear, if you say, 'it's complicated' one more time. If you say it _one more_ time."

Akira keeps his mouth shut.

A salaryman with a loosened tie speaks, and with each syllable, drives his finger down onto the countertop. "You best get a move on! Time waits for no man! Neither does love!"

His boyfriend nods, and pats him on the shoulder. "That's right. If this takes much longer, she'll find herself a real man. A man who doesn't take weeks and weeks to tell her how he feels about her." He raises his hand. "Lala-chan, this troublemaker of yours is going to drive me to drink."

"Another round then?" Lala calls.

The man smiles and nods.

Akira is not sure when his Makoto issues became staple entertainment at the bar, but it is not the strangest thing that has happened to him in the last few months. He looks over at the salaryman. "Another soda?"

"A water, please." He smirks. "And try not to take forever."

Akira groans and the patrons laugh.

Lala joins him as he pours the request. "I appreciate you being a good sport about this," she whispers.

He shrugs. "It's alright. I know it's all in good fun."

"Still," she mutters. "I don't like seeing you like this. I know you're laughing too, but I can tell this is eating you up inside.”

"More of your intuition?" He asks.

She pokes him in the shoulder, hard. "Don't make the same mistake all young people make."

"What's that?"

"Thinking you're the only person who's ever been in love."

Akira turns to her. "Isn’t that jumping the gun? We haven’t even spoken in a long time. What feels like a long time, anyway. I like her, sure, but love? Love might be a bit advanced and-"

Lala-chan's arms cross. "Don't you try and weasel out of this. You're in love, and I won't have you telling yourself you're not."

Akira opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. "Yes, ma'am." He slides past her and brings the water to the salaryman, who thanks him, and returns to the conversation with his boyfriend.

Alone with his thoughts for the first time all day, Akira lets himself take stock.

 _Love, huh?_ He thinks of Makoto. There's no question he feels something strong for her, but things have been progressing so fast lately, he hasn't had time to think that much about her.

Given the contents of the latest Phantom Thief meeting, he doesn’t know if he’ll have a chance to think about her anytime soon, either.

Though, granted, he still needed to know what she knew about their activities. The thought rams into his head like a train. _We need to get Makoto out of this._ Once he learned what she knew, he could tailor his strategy to get her clear.

Especially if there were others who could use the Metaverse.

The others had been crestfallen when he'd given them Igor's answer. Then, cautiously, everyone began to question whether or not Igor was telling them the truth. It was a line of inquiry that bothered him, but it had crossed his mind before. Just who was Igor? Could he be trusted? Why, exactly, was he helping Akira with his 'rehabilitation?' Was it possible that Igor was lying to him, about everything?

They'd resigned themselves to pursuing other paths of investigation regarding Kobayakawa and Madarame's deaths. If someone else _could_ access the Metaverse, they needed to know who they were, how they were doing it, and what their intentions were. Akira doubted they would be in the best interests of the Phantom Thieves.

Then, Ryuji had turned the conversation to the Mementos Requests. Akira had unfolded his plan to help Daisuke, and cover up their connection to Shujin. Everyone had been in agreement.

Now, all that remained was to start their latest batch of operations.

Akira glances up from the bar, as Ohya walks in. _And here we go_.

The reporter spots him and smirks, then saunters over to the bar and plops down on a stool. "Hiiiiii," she says.

"Hey," he replies.

She lifts a hand in the air. "Lala-chan! Oh, Lala-chan!"

The woman walks over, a frown on her face. "And what hijinks are you planning on getting this boy into tonight?" She asks.

"Hijinks? Me?"

Lala reaches beneath the bar and sets a drink glass on the counter, unprompted. "I'm warning you, little lady. You keep putting Akira here through the ringer and-"

"Hey," Ohya replies, pouting. "I'm teaching him life skills. He's like, an intern.” She nods. “Yeah, an intern."

Akira frowns. "Well, the pay's about right."

Ohya makes a face at him, and when Lala finishes pouring her drink, she snatches the glass up and takes a light sip. "Relax, Lala-chan," she says. "Kurusu is in good hands with me."

Akira watches as Lala's eyes drop to Ohya's mentioned hands. They linger there, and then she nods and walks away. "Be careful," she whispers, as she passes him. If Ohya heard, she gives no sign.

Ohya waits until the woman is a significant distance away, then she leans in and says, "Have you thought anymore about what I said?"

He nods. "I did." She stares at him, waiting. "And I need your help with something."

She cocks a brow. "What, exactly?"

The others had been reluctant. As Ann had put it, 'Doesn’t Ohya _not_ trust the Phantom Thieves?' But, Akira had replied, 'She trusts me.'

“First,” he says. “I need you to show me how to track someone’s phone. The way you did mine.”

“And what do you need that for?” She asks.

He smiles. “Aren’t you going to ask what else I need?”

She mirrors his grin. “Nice dodge. Well?”

"Second, do you think you could dig up some more dirt on Kobayakawa?"

Ohya stares at him, takes a sip of her drink and asks, "Why? No dodging."

"I have to know." He lets the implication dangle. It's not quite a lie. He has to know if someone else is behind the death of Kobayakawa. If Ohya thinks he has to know if the Phantom Thieves are trustworthy or not, then it still works in his favor.

"Remember," Ohya says. "This isn't a one way street."

"I know that," he replies, and glances down the length of the bar to ensure no one's listening. When he continues, it's a whisper. "I think the Phantom Thieves are going to make another move, soon. The admin said as much. A couple of requests this time, all in a row. I can get you some details." And he'll leave Daisuke out of it. If the Devil's Dispatch decided to go ahead with information regarding the Phantom Thieves' latest exploits, he'd be sure to minimize the exposure their connection to Shujin would bring.

Ohya doesn't reply.

Akira sets his hands on the bar, and drums his fingers along the wood. "Well?"

She shakes her head. "Not good enough."

He feels his eyes widen. "What'd you mean? You want something else?"

"Something else?" Ohya asks. "Clearly you don't know what 'not good enough’ means. I still expect that info, but I'm going to need your help on my newest assignment as well. You agree to both, and I'll do some digging on the dead Principal."

Akira lets out a sigh, and keeps the curse in his throat. "That doesn't sound very fair."

Ohay claps her hands to her cheeks. "Oh my goodness! You're right. It's _not_ fair. How asinine of me."

Akira rolls his eyes. "Are you done?"

She grins. "C'mon, cuz. It's not such a bad gig. You might even find it interesting."

"More interesting than Yakuza storage units hiding fabricated art?"

"Okay, maybe not _that_ interesting."

Akira pushes himself off the bar and folds his arms. "Okay, so what's the assignment?"

Ohya makes a show of taking another sip. Then, she says, "Ever heard of someone called, 'No Good Tora?'"

#

When Juni raps his knuckles on the door, the sound echoes out into the pale, silent night. The district is always quiet, after hours, and the noise skitters away like a spooked intruder.

The door opens and Akio scrutinizes him. His friend is dressed in more casual clothes, as he always is when not in public; a t-shirt and jeans. Aki was never someone who adapted to the high life.

"Well?" Juni asks, as the moment stretches. "Are you waiting on a fucking bouquet or something? Let me in."

Akio mumbles something beneath his breath, but slides to the side. Junichiro slips his way in, and moves with purpose down the dim hall, further into the repurposed warehouse. Tucked into the shadows at the ceiling's edge, he can make out the silhouettes of wires, wires, and more wires. The air is heavy with the perceptible hum of electricity.

Akio keeps pace behind him.

"Have you seen it?" Juni asks.

"Oh, I saw it."

"And?"

Akio barks a laugh. "You'll just have to look for yourself."

"C'mon, give me a synopsis."

"The short version?" Akio asks, as they near Dunk's door. "It's pretty fucking weird, Juni." He steps past Juni, puts his hand on the handle, shoves down, and the door swing open.

Blue electric light burns its way into his retinas, and Juni squints his eyes shut. When he reopens them, he spies the familiar, and still odd set up.

The left side of the large room is encompassed of numerous computer systems, modems, servers, and all the other high-tech machines Juni pretends to understand, but doesn't. This is Dunk's 'workshop' as he calls it, and as Tatterdemalion's resident hacker and tech expert, it's served them well over the years.

The right side of the room is a gym. Dunk himself lies on the bench press machine, shoving the bar into the air, again and again, grunting all the while.

Juni moves over until he stands over the mountain of a man. "You know," he says down at his friend. "It's dangerous to do this without a spotter."

Dunk's face doesn't look like it belongs behind a computer screen. His nose is slanted from too many street fights, and his ears are cauliflowers. He scowls up at Juni and hisses out, "Then help a guy out!"

Juni reaches out and grips the bar. Dunk lets a little of his strength escape, and Juni nearly topples forward. "Goddamn!" Juni shouts, and Dunk laughs, reestablished control over the bar, and eases it back down.

He sits up. "You need to learn to enjoy the weight, bro."

Juni shakes his arms. "I get enough enjoyment out of life. I don't need to add 'lifting heavy things' to my repertoire."

Dunk snatches a towel off the ground, and wipes his face. Juni isn't sure why Dunichi goes by Dunk, and the big man has never offered up an explanation. He chalks it up to another example of his contrary nature.

"So," Dunk says, standing and strutting over to one of his computers. "You ready to take a look? I already showed Aki." He glances back towards the door. "Aren't the others coming?"

"They're out and about," Juni says, grabbing a chair and pulling it up alongside Dunk's. "I'll fill them in."

Dunk shrugs. "Alright." His fingers dance across the keyboard. "Let's talk Phantom Thieves."

Aki crosses his arms and leans against a table behind them. "Think they killed Madarame?"

Juni shrugs. "It makes sense, in a messed up kind of way. They make him confess, and then they shut him up. They're heroes, and Madarame can't do anything against them."

Dunk smirks. "But there's always a ‘but.’"

Juni slaps him on his meaty shoulder. "That there is. What makes more sense? That the Phantom Thieves magically got Madarame to confess to his crimes, and then killed him, or the yakuza group that runs Natsuki Storage got sick of his shit and got rid of him?"

Dunk frowns. “And they did that by having a former apprentice of his stab him? How’d they pull that off?”

Juni shrugs. “Drugs can make you do crazy things. The right ones can make you strongly susceptible to outside influence.”

Akio clears his throat. "Or, he did just off him on his own. Unprompted."

Juni rolls his eyes. "You've got no imagination."

"Here's the thing, Juni," Dunk says. "Normally, I'd agree with you. But, after checking the footage from Natsuki Storage, I'm not sure I can."

Juni nods. "Let me see it."

"Right. First, I went back a few days. I found this." He hits a button on the keyboard.

An image of Natsuki Storage's main hallway appears. All of it is recorded on the thumbnail sized camera Juni had installed weeks earlier. The footage shows little, until a door near the back of the hall swings open from the inside, and a black speck appears.

"What's that?" Juni asks, leaning closer to the screen.

"That would be a cat."

The cat approaches the camera, head swinging back and forth as it walks the length of the hall, and eventually out of sight.

"Wow," Juni says. "A cat snuck into a building. Stop the presses."

"Juni-" Dunk starts.

"Call the police."

"Juni-"

"Alert the Self-Defense Force. We have to do something about this cat-filtration menace!"

"Juni!" Dunk growls. "Would you just shut up and watch the freakin' screen?"

The cat appears back on the screen again, walking in the opposite direction, back towards its exit. Something is in its mouth.

Juni squints. "Is that a... file?"

"Mmmhmm," Akio replies. "It's rolled up in its mouth."

Juni leans back and frowns. "Okay. That's weird. But I'm not getting it. Cats don't have respect for human property. Ask any cat owner."

Dunk nods. "I thought as much too. A cat walks into a building, and walks out with something. No big deal, right? But, check out this footage from a few days later. The day before Madarame received his Calling Card."

He hits another button, and the same hallways appears. The same door opens.

The same cat walks in.

For once, Juni doesn't know what to say. A manila folder is rolled up, and held aloft in its tail. In its mouth, it carries a thin looking piece of plastic, and he can barely make out a small orb balanced precariously on the thing's head.

The cat stops alongside Madarame's door. It sets the folder and piece of plastic down. Then, it rolls whatever is on its head into one paw, and takes a running start at the wall opposite Madarame's unit. It leaps into the air, and smacks it against the wall of what would be approximately human eye level.

Then, the cat lifts the piece of plastic, jumps to the card reader on Madarame's door, and fiddles with it. When it returns to the floor, the thin plastic is gone, inserted into the card reader. Lastly, it takes up the file, and darts out of sight.

"Holy shit," Juni says.

"Just wait," Dunk tells him.

A few moments later, the cat reappears, rushing down the hall and out of the door it had entered from.

Dunk speeds up the footage, and Madarame appears. He rushes to his door, slides his card through the reader, and opens it up. He stares inside, but never enters, then shuts the door, and vanishes off-screen.

A few moments after _that_ , the cat reenters the hall. It jumps up to the card reader, and extracts the thin piece of plastic. Then, it runs back across the floor, leaps, and snatches the tiny orb off the wall. Then, it darts for its exit, and doesn't return.

No one says anything.

Juni leans forward, and dips his head towards the floor. He shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

 _Breathe it in. Breathe it in_.

"Told you it was weird," Akio says.

" _Holy shit_ ," Juni blurts out, and shoots out of his chair. "This is nuts. Unbelievable, even."

"So, I ran another analysis," Dunk says. "And that little thing that cat shoved up on the wall? It has to be the camera that took those photos. The ones that showed up on that 'Devil's Dispatch' site."

Juni runs through everything. "Okay. The cat filched a file. Then, it came back, and installed a card skimmer and camera. Then, it waited until the appropriate time, and managed to leave Natsuki Storage undetected with the skimmer and the camera. After having returned its stolen file, of course." He looks at his friends. "That's one well trained cat."

They chuckle. "What do you think this means, Juni?" Aki asks, once they've settled down.

A big grin spreads across his face. "I've got no idea. But if this cat is connected to the Phantom Thieves, then they're a lot more interesting than I gave them credit for." He blinks. Frowns. "I wonder what that file was. And why would they need to simulate Madarame's pass card, and know the PIN?"

Dunk bites off a quick guffaw. "Know what else is weird?"

"What?" Akio asks.

"Juni riffled through Natsuki's files when he snuck in there weeks ago. There was nothing in there about Madarame, right?"

Juni nods. "That's right."

“But the cat still took that file, and presumably, brought it back before anyone realized it was missing. That means the Phantom Thieves knew something about Madarame we didn’t.” He stiffens. “Holy crap.”

“What?” Akio asks. Juni’s eyes narrow.

“It doesn’t mean only that,” Dunk says. He shakes his head. “But nah, that’s crazy. That can’t be right.”

“What?” Aki asks, impatient.

Juni understands. “There were no pictures in the files. No colored labeling system. Nothing aside from standard documentation. If the cat stole a specific file, and didn’t grab one at random, then that cat can _read_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom!
> 
> I hope you're all looking forward to the month of June in Crimson. I know I am!
> 
> A lot of work went into this chapter, and I'm pretty happy with it. I'm definitely glad to be back.
> 
> I hope you all had a good week, and that you're looking forward to the weekend. I'll be seeing you all on Monday!
> 
> EDIT: Can anyone explain to me why this isn't shooting to the top of the updated list when I post these chapters? This is the second time in a row Crimson has stayed in its present position. It's a little annoying.
> 
> EDIT OF THE EDIT: Oh, never mind.


	59. Charades

6/2

 

When Chouno-sensei drew her aside after school, and said, "The Principal would like a word with you," the only response Makoto could think of was, "But he's dead."

To which the English teacher, with a condescending little frown on her face, replied, "Yes dear, I'm aware. The _new_ Principal."

It made sense, up to a point. Shujin needed a Principal to function. Yet Kobayakawa had been dead, for what? A handful of days? Makoto had figured on there being a vetting process, or a prolonged period of interviews and meetings.

Makoto stands outside the Principal's office, dry-mouthed and plank-still. The placard that once bore Kobayakawa's name is gone, replaced by a faint rectangle stain in the wood.

One part of her mind, the ridiculous part, half-expects Kobayakawa to be behind that door, fingers folded beneath his non-existent chin, waiting for a report on Makoto's investigation into the Phantom Thieves, Sae's warnings be damned.

She lifts a hand and knocks.

"Come in," replies a voice. Female. Elderly. Pleasant.

Makoto takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps inside.

The woman is small. She is older, in her late fifties perhaps. Her gray hair is pulled up in a conservative bun. Her suit jacket is charcoal, and well pressed. Makoto cannot see what shoes the woman wears, as she sits at Kobayakawa's old desk, but she imagines them well-shined and dark. A charming pair of black glasses hangs on her face, a thin chain leading from the frames, down around her neck.

Her eyes widen when Makoto stops before the desk. "Ah, Niijima-san!" She cries, and stands.

"Hello, ma'am," Makoto replies, and bows. "It is nice to meet you."

"Oh, and it's lovely to meet you as well. My name is Shiori Toko, and as I'm sure you've surmised, I'll be taking over as Principal for Shujin Academy."

"I'm glad to hear that," Makoto replies. She straightens, and keeps her hands clasped before her.

"My time here won't officially begin until next week, but I wanted to set up shop early. Get to meet the staff." She inclines her head towards Makoto. "The student representation."

"Of course." Makoto clears her throat. "To be honest, ma'am, I'm a bit surprised you filled this position so fast. That anyone filled it so fast, actually."

Toko-sensei chuckles. "You and me both, Niijima-san!" She covers her mouth in a fit of giggles, and it's so charming and cute, Makoto can't help but smile back. "Believe me, I've never been so shocked. But, education is a primary focus of our present administration. Shujin Academy is considered a vital institution, as such, it couldn't go without a leader for long. Though, I understand you managed to hold down the fort before I arrived." She winks.

Makoto shakes her head. "I only fulfilled my duties the same as ever."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Niijima-san." Toko's voice is almost stern. "Your perseverance in the face of Kobayakawa-sensei's passing was a shining example to the rest of the student body. That, even in the face of tragedy, we must press on."

 _Kobayakawa was a piece of shit_. The thought speeds it way through her mind so quickly that Makoto can only blink in surprise.

Toko holds up a solitary finger. "I have something for you, actually. That's why I wanted to see you." She pulls open a drawer in Kobayakawa's desk - and Makoto has to remind herself that this is now Toko's desk - and withdraws an envelope.

With a flourish, she holds it out to Makoto.

"What's this?" She asks.

The Principal smiles. "Your letter of recommendation."

Makoto tries to close her jaw. It doesn't work.

"I've reviewed your transcripts, and spoken with your teachers. All of them spoke highly of you, even those who have a hard time speaking highly of _anything_. Your actions and diligence have brought honor to Shujin Academy. You have the full backing of this institution. This letter is only one copy. Whatever school you think to apply to, let me know, and I will see that it is personally sent."

Makoto reaches out and takes it. "I... thank you, ma'am." _Is this real? Is this really it?_ She knows it's rude, but she can't help herself. She slides the envelope open and pulls out the letter. Her eyes run over the words. Yes. It is the real thing. "Thank you so much."

Toko-sensei shakes her head. "You've earned it, Niijima-san. I hope you realize that." She retakes her seat.

Her smile falters. "Niijima-san," she begins, then sighs, removes her glasses. Rubs her eyes. It reminds Makoto of Akira. When Toko-sensei looks back at her, her face isn't stern, but something more rigid. Wary, even. "May I call you, Makoto?"

She blinks. "Um, sure. I suppose." It isn't exactly proper, but she's not ready to tell the person who just handed her the key to her future anything but yes.

"Makoto, I've something of a confession to make."

Makoto isn't sure what to do, so she just tries to keep her throat from drying.

It doesn't work.

"I know about your arrangement with Kobayakawa-sensei. Pertaining to the Phantom Thieves."

The earth falls away from Makoto's feet. _Not this. Not again_.

Her mouth hinges open. "I-"

But Toko-sensei holds up her hand. "Please, Makoto. Allow me to finish. I am aware of your arrangement with Kobayakawa-sensei, and I am aware that your sister put a quick end to it." She stands up once more, and bows. "On behalf of Shujin Academy, I would like to formally apologize to you."

Makoto briefly wonders if her eyes are about to fall out of her head.

Toko-sensei straightens. "It was inappropriate and outrageous for Kobayakawa-sensei to put you in that position. That he stooped as low as to _blackmail_ you, is the height of absurdity."

"Y-you don't have to-" Makoto begins.

"I represent this school," Toko says, an edge of pride in her voice. "As he did. He should have held himself to a higher standard. He should never have covered up Kamoshida's monstrous actions, and he should never have forced you to pursue a dangerous group in retaliation."

Makoto starts at the term, 'dangerous group,' but Toko continues to speak.

"Though I may not speak this to others, it seems clear to me that _Principal_ Kobayakawa was only interested in protecting his own position and his own ..." she clears her throat, "Let's just say, 'behind.'" She inclines her head. "So, I'm sorry, Makoto. You should never have been put in that position."

"I, um, thank you, ma'am."

Toko gestures towards the chair across from her. "Please, sit down. We've more to discuss."

Makoto sits down, her mind reeling from what it's been told. "I honestly didn't think anyone knew," she says. "Sae, that is, my sister, spoke to him right after he gave me the assignment."

Toko pokes her index finger into the hardwood desk as she speaks. "Seems to me your sister has a good head on her shoulders."

Makoto opens her mouth to reply, but for whatever reason, no words come out.

Toko leans over the desk, towards her. Her voice drops to a lower tone. "Makoto, maybe you're wondering why I'm saying all this. I assure you, there is a reason." She sighs once more. "You do not have to respond to what I'm about to say. Do you understand?"

Makoto feels her face scrunch up in confusion. "Ma'am?"

"I'm saying," Toko says. "That I am going to say something, and you should think hard about what you're going to say in response. If you choose to say _nothing_ , I will accept that as an appropriate reply. Do you understand?"

Makoto did not. "Um, yes."

"Alright then." Toko leans back in her chair. The wariness still lingers around her eyes. "If you have, in any context, looked into the potential identities of the Phantom Thieves, you need to stop. _Now_."

Makoto feels her blood run cold. A million responses light up in her brain. _Tell her the truth! Tell her nothing! Tell her something!_

But Makoto remembers Toko-sensei's words, and she keeps her mouth shut.

_What the hell is going on?_

Toko nods, apparently satisfied. "Very good. I won't have you putting yourself in danger."

Again, that word. Again, alluding to the Phantom Thieves. "Ma'am?" Makoto asks. "Just, what do you mean?"

Toko folds her hands together. "I'm going to tell you this, in confidence. You are to share it with no one, including your sister. I am aware of her position in the SID. It cannot get back to her that I told you this. What I am about to say pertains to your own safety."

Makoto nods. "A-alright."

Toko-sensei wets her lips before continuing. "This information was only given to me because of my new position. The police believed that I, myself, might become a target."

"A target?" Makoto asks. "A target of who?"

"The Phantom Thieves," Toko-sensei says.

And then she tells her about the note.

#

Makoto shuts the door behind her.

Principal Toko sits in silence for a time. Then, she leans back in her chair, and pulls her phone from her coat's pocket.

She dials a number, holds it to her ear.

 _Ring Ring_.

 _Ring Ring_.

 _Ring Ring_.

A young voice answers. "Yes?"

"It's done," Toko says.

“Await further instructions,” replies the voice.

She hangs up.

#

Ryuji and Ann step out of the shop. Ann turns to the employee who walked them out, and bows. "Thank you for having us," she states. Ryuji nods his head and mumbles something approximate.

The employee inclines his head, doesn't reply, and steps back inside.

"What'd you think?" Ann asks.

Ryuji scoffs. "I think they didn't have any of the snacks I like."

Ann groans. "Oh my god, you know what I mean. What'd you think of Nozomi Odo?"

Ryuji turns and starts to head down the street. Ann walks alongside him. "Honestly?" He asks. She nods. "Guy seems like a creep to me, but it's hard to say if he's really blackmailin' his people." He sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "But I guess we couldn't expect him to come right out and tell a couple of strangers that he's screwing his employees over like that."

Ann smiles. "Yeah, I guess so. But they sure seemed freaked out. Did you catch the part about how we, if he hires us, have to give him access to our phones? Kind of intense for a convenience store."

Ryuji blows out a raspberry. "Yeah, for that kind of pay, I wouldn't let him check my watch, never mind my freakin' phone."

"You don't wear a watch."

"That's not the point!"

Ann shrugs. "Still, he seemed real shady to me. Like, what could he need the phones for, except to get dirt on his employees?"

They cross the street, and Ryuji waits until they're back on the sidewalk to continue. "It'd explain why everyone who worked there looked ready to panic. Not that we have to worry. He's never gonna hire us." Ryuji jabs his thumb towards his hair. "Not with me like this. I think he only talked to me for a few minutes so I wouldn't go crazy and wreck his store."

Ann rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah, you really scream 'danger.' But I don't know, he might've hired me."

Ryuji smirks. "Right, because you really scream, 'work ethic.'"

She swats his shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ryuji laughs. "What'd you think?"

They continue to bicker, but Ryuji's mind drifts off. The idea had been Akira's. Ryuji and Ann, giving fake names, would inquire about part-time jobs at the convenience store run by Nozomi Odo. According to the anonymous Mementos request, the manager was notorious for blackmailing his employees into insane shifts, bare-minimum wages, and awful conditions. If anyone tried to leave, he simply exposed their secrets.

Akira figured it would be a big enough request to divert attention away from Daisuke's. Granted, it wasn't their only diversion, and the other was even more high profile, but Yusuke needed to handle that one for now.

Something else had been on his mind for a while, and now that he had Ann to himself, he knew it was the proper time to initiate his own plan.

He clears his throat a few times. _Let's do this._ "So, uh, listen. There's something I gotta ask you."

Ann's brows rise. "Yeah?"

Ryuji stops walking, and waves for her to stop as well. "Things are probably gonna get busy again pretty soon. I mean, we've only just started working on these requests, and who knows how many more we'll do before our next big target? So, you know, we've got to make the most of our downtime while we've got it."

Ann blinks. A tint of red enters her cheeks. "Um, okay."

Ryuji rubs the back of his head. "Cause, like, we may not have a lot of chances to do things in the future, because of all the Thief stuff."

Ann nods, vigorously. "Uh-huh. Yes."

"So, I wanted to ask you, since we've got more free time than usual-"

"Yes?" Ann asks, eyes wide.

"If you wanted to-"

"Yes?" Ann takes a step closer to him.

"Come with me when I take Yusuke for his checkup this weekend."

Ann stares at him. "What."

Ryuji smiles. "Yeah, for support and shit. He hasn't been to the doctor's since he fainted so he's probably pretty nervous about it, and-"

"You bastard!" Ann screams, and grabs the collar of his shirt.

"Ah! What the hell, Ann?"

She begins to shake him back and forth. "You want me to take Yusuke to the freaking doctor's with you? And you asked like _that?_ I could strangle you, you... you... _BASTARD!_ "

Ryuji tries to break her hold, but her grip is iron. "I just think that-"

"That's your problem, Ryuji! You don't _think_ at all!"

It is some time before Ann stops her assault.

#

Akira hauls another down from the shelf. "What about this one?"

Morgana shakes his head. "It's not luxurious enough."

Akira sighs, and sets the carrier on the floor. "It doesn't need to be luxurious. It needs to fit you."

Yusuke bends down and examines the small cage. "I must agree with Morgana. This thing is _hideous_."

"Alright," Akira replies. He heaves it off the ground, and shoves it back onto the shelf. "Why don't you pick one, then?"

"Don't get moody," Morgana hisses. "Someone of my caliber wouldn't be caught dead in a gaudy piece of junk like that. If Haru sees me in something that's not as magnificent as I am, she'll see right through our charade."

Yusuke crosses his arms. "I concur."

Morgana's tail swishes in the air. "See? Yusuke gets me."

Akira sighs. "So, you think that if I don't drop you off in a fancy enough carrier, Haru will think we're spying on her?"

Morgana and Yusuke glance at one another. "Yes."

"Oh my god, fine." Akira turns back to the pet store's selection. "Let's keep looking."

Yusuke sidles up alongside him. "I am still a bit uncertain as to how this will help us. Are we quite certain Haru has information we can use?"

Akira nods. "She's friends with Makoto. And since Makoto is still investigating us, maybe she's confided in Haru. If we give her Morgana, we may be able to uncover what Makoto knows, if anything." He knows it's flimsy, but he's getting desperate. They’re operating with barely any knowledge at this point. If they can figure out what Makoto knows, they can work around it. True, his initial purpose of this plan was to get in a good word with Makoto, but he’s past that. If others can use the Metaverse, he needs to find out who they are, and what they want. Which means eliminating the threat Makoto poses, now.

The cat sighs, and strides down the aisle. "What about this one?"

Akira walks over and looks at the price. "No way."

"Are you saying I'm not worth it?"

"I'm saying, no cat, no human, no human trapped in a cat's body, is worth that price."

Yusuke walks up behind the two, gasps, and steps between them. He then proceeds to embrace the overly expensive carrier. "My word! The sculpture, the accentuation of the colors, perfectly highlighting and suggesting the grate as both a means of captivity and conveyance. It is simply exquisite."

"It's a cat carrier, Yusuke."

"It is _art_."

Akira sighs and motions for his friend to stand up. He kneels down next to the grate. Opens it. He holds out his hand towards Yusuke, and the boy hands him his phone. Akira reaches in and starts to fiddle around. "It's big enough, I guess. If we put a mat over the plastic..."

"Remind me again why my phone needs to go undercover?" Yusuke asks.

"Because if you need to reach us, you can use your burner. The rest of us all need our phones for a variety of reasons. Plus, Ohya hacked my phone. The last thing we need is her showing up at Haru's house and asking about me."

Yusuke frowns. "I will get it back, yes?"

"Of course you will, right Morgana?"

Morgana glances up at Yusuke. "Do you doubt my skills?"

Yusuke shakes his head. "No. But you have claws. I doubt your claws. I have seen you playing games on Ryuji's phone when he's in the bathroom or otherwise not looking. That he is unable to piece together why his screen gets more and more scratched up as the days go by is beyond me."

"Yeah," Akira puts in. "You'd think he would've figured that out by now."

Morgana frowns. "You're not gonna tell him, are you?"

Akira laughs. "No way. It's too much fun watching his face." He sighs and pulls out his wallet. "I guess this is the one we can all agree on. You know, I really should start tracking my expenses."

They purchase the carrier and exit the store. Akira hands it off to Yusuke. "So, you'll come by tomorrow, right? And drop it off?"

Yusuke bows. "You can rely upon me, friend. I shall retrieve a few more of those paintings as well."

Akira blinks. "That reminds me. I never asked, how'd it go? Bringing those paintings back to Madarame's apprentices?"

When the Phantom Thieves had met Wednesday afternoon, Yusuke had taken a few paintings with him as he left, intending to return them to the correct individuals.

"Well, I believe," Yusuke says. "I retraced the steps of Madarame-sensei, and left them at the doors."

"You just... left them at the doors? How'd you know which painting belonged to which student?"

Yusuke chuckles. "My friend, sometimes you are truly naive. I _inferred_."

Akira holds up his hands. "You know what, forget I asked. Good for you, Yusuke."

The three of them heads towards Shibuya Station, and it isn't long before they encounter Ryuji and Ann, right on time.

"How'd it go?" Akira asks.

"Meh," Ryuji replies, and shrugs. "Not great. We couldn't tell one way or the other."

"Odo's definitely a creep though," Ann puts in. "But we didn't see any clear evidence of him blackmailing his employees."

Yusuke frowns. "How troubling. And you two were not able to secure employment?"

"Uh, no."

Akira nods. "Alright, well, we'll just have to think of something else."

"What about Morgana?" Ryuji asks.

Morgana blinks from where he sits on Akira's shoulder. "Me?"

"Yeah. You're our infiltration specialist. Can't you just sneak in and find some evidence. Like you did at that storage place?"

Morgana frowns. "I suppose. But I'm starting to feel like I'm getting all the tough assignments."

Ryuji smirks. "Hey, if you can't do it-"

"I never said that!"

Ann rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. "Oh, crap. I've got to get going. I'll talk to you guys later."

"Later," Ryuji calls. Everyone expresses similar sentiments. He watches her go, then turns back to the group, with a wide grin. "Alright, now that it's just the dudes here, I've got a proposal."

Akira's brows lift. "A proposal? For what?"

Ryuji chuckles, and rolls his eyes skyward. "Let's just say, I've got something planned."

"What?" Morgana asks.

"You'll just have to wait and see. I figured, we needed a break from everything. Between Madarame and the whole Kobayakawa's dead thing, and all these requests, we haven't had a second for bro time."

Yusuke frowns. "Bro time?"

"Look," Ryuji says, and pats the air with his hands. "My cousin's got an apartment in Shibuya, and he's gone this weekend. He told me that I could have people over and use it. No parents. No guardians. No dorms. Just us, chilling. I mean, he made me promise not to burn the place down or anything, but c'mon, we've got nothing going on tomorrow night. It'll be fun."

"Ah," Yusuke says. "Is that what is known as a sleepover?"

Ryuji's smirk returns. "Don't know if we're gonna be doin' much sleeping, but yeah."

Akira stares at his friend. "We're not going to do anything illegal, right?"

"C’mon man, lighten up. Look, it'll go down tomorrow night. Let's blow off a little steam and have a dude's night."

Akira mulls this over. He's not sure if Ryuji is still frustrated over his keeping Daisuke's predicament under wraps, and this proposal would likely go a long way to repairing that rift. And Ryuji wasn't wrong, they had gone through a lot during the month of May, and had had little time to relax. _He’s right. We don’t actually have anything planned for tomorrow. And isn't this what I'm supposed to do with my teenage years?_

He smiles. "I'm in."

"Me too," Morgana replies.

Yusuke cups his chin in his hand. "I suppose this get together may give me the chance to experience a communal living arrangement."

Morgana leans in towards Akira's ear and whispers, "He does know he spent a week on our couch, right?"

Akira shrugs. "Who's knows what he thought that was?"

Ryuji holds out his hand, palm down. "Hands in, boys!"

Akira smiles, and sets his hand on top of Ryuji's. Yusuke does the same. Morgana trots down Akira's forearm and places his paw on top.

Then, Ryuji throws his hands into the air, and shouts, "Dude's night!"

#

There's a knock at the door.

Sae looks up.

Akechi stands there, smiling. His arm is raised in a half-wave.

"You're late," she tells him.

Akechi deflates, letting out a tired little sigh. "I don't suppose I could ask you to cut me some slack, eh, Niijima-san? I do have homework, you know."

By reply, Sae gestures to the seat across from her. "Shut the door."

Akechi does so, and makes a face at all the stacks and stacks of case files she has piled over her office. She's seen him make that face before, but she chooses to ignore it. "Something on your mind?" He asks.

Sae stares across the desk at him. He meets her gaze, straight-faced. _So young_ , she thinks. _And here he is, trapped in this office with me_. She doesn't dwell on the fact that she's the one who has trapped him here. "How old are you, Akechi-kun?"

He blinks, and for a strange, long moment, his face flickers with half-formed smiles, frowns, furrowed brows, as if he could not decide upon what to show her.

Then, he reaches up one gloved hand and rubs the back of his head. "Um," he starts, then chuckles. "Funny you should ask, Niijima-san. As of today, I'm eighteen."

Sae rolls her eyes. "Right."

Akechi swallows. "I, uh, am afraid not."

Sae looks at him. "It's your birthday? _Today?_ "

He shrugs, gives her a little grin. "Only for the past eighteen years."

This is not how Sae imagined this conversation going. The age question had been just a throwaway. She hadn't really cared about the answer. It'd only been meant as a warmup to what she really needed to discuss with him.

Sae finds herself in a situation she has come to loathe. She finds herself at a loss for words. "Happy, um, birthday then, I suppose."

"Th-thanks," Akechi replies.

Sae looks around her suddenly microscopic office. A pang of guilt lances through her. She starts to say, "Do you want to go-" at the same time Akechi says, "You wanted to talk to me about-"

Both stop.

"Sorry, Niijima-san," Akechi says, and nods his head. "Please, you were saying?"

Sae holds up her hands, palms out. "Oh, no. I only wanted to ask if you thought..." She spreads her hands to indicate the office. "I mean, this is no place to spend one's birthday." Akechi blinks. Sae hasn't blushed in a very long time, and she doesn't now.

But she comes close.

"What I'm saying is," she continues, "that we could potentially hold this meeting somewhere else." _What is it he's always mentioning?_ "Sushi. You like sushi, yes? We could go for sushi. Should we go for sushi?"

"Oh," Akechi says, eyes wide like saucers. "Thank you for the offer, but I have plans." The second half of the sentence rushes out of him.

"Plans?" She asks.

"Yes, plans. I'm going out somewhere, later. With friends."

"Friends?" She asks.

"Friends from school," he tells her.

She stares at him. _When he came in, he'd told me he'd been doing his homework. Maybe he was doing it before he went out? I didn't know he had any friends, though. He's never mentioned them_. "I see," she says. "Good. That's... good. You should go out with your friends."

He nods a few times. "I hope the offer stands for a later date?" He gives her a hopeful smile.

Sae sighs. "Of course, Akechi-kun. Of course. Happy birthday."

He settles his hands on her desk. "Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. But, I get the feeling you didn't ask me here to ask how old I was." His small smile has returned.

 _Okay_ , Sae thinks. _He regained his composure. Time to get mine in check._ She straightens in her seat. "That's correct. I wanted to bring you in on something."

He leans towards her. "Oh? Something interesting, I hope."

 _Oh, it's interesting_. "The Special Investigation Department is officially opening a file on these Phantom Thieves."

Akechi's eyes widen. "Really? I thought the upper echelons believed them to be a hoax?"

"Evidently," Sae says. "The situation with Ichiryusai Madarame has caused them to rethink their position on the subject." She allows a small smile onto her face. "It also seems that your appearance on television last month influenced some of their thinking."

Akechi blushes. "Oh, that's a bit embarrassing."

Sae shakes her head. "You made good points. If the Phantom Thieves can change the hearts of the corrupt, what else can they do?"

Akechi says nothing for a time, just stares at her. "If I'm understanding you correctly, Niijima-san, you want my help in finding out just what it is the Phantom Thieves are capable of."

Sae Niijima meets his eyes, but her mind is suddenly very far away.

She can see it all, spread out before her, like a great cloud blanketing the sky. Yukio Kan. Ichiryusai Madarame. Daiki Aoe, the boy who killed him, and didn't remember doing it. Suguru Kamoshida. Principal Kobayakawa. His note. The mental shutdowns. Her theories that feel like ancient history, that she's never voiced to anyone but never doubted.

That it's all connected. All of it. She can see it all. She just can't make it all fit. If she could just make it all come together, structure it the right way, what a victory it would be.

And somewhere out there, were the Phantom Thieves. The piece she may be have been missing.

She returns to herself, and says, "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the Phantom Thieves get through this dire situation unscathed? Is Makoto heading for disaster? Will Sae's obsession with victory continue to warp her perceptions? Will Akechi ever actually get sushi?
> 
> The answers to all these questions will be answered....
> 
>  
> 
> ...right now.
> 
> No.  
> Yes.  
> Definitely.  
> No, because fuck Akechi.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the delayed post. I was too wrapped up with getting ready this morning and I didn't have enough time. I'm really not a morning guy. Or rather, I'm not a moring guy who spent the night before drinking whiskey guy.
> 
> Can you blame me? I had to catch on all the anime. Megalo Box. My Hero Academia. Legend of Galactic Heroes. Persona 5. I do have to say, the last two episodes have been significantly better than the first four. That's not to say that they're very good - in my opinion, anyway - but they're a certainly a step in the right direction.
> 
> I could say it's due to an improvement in pacing, some great voice acting from Yusuke's actor, and that scene with Nakanohara which - shockingly - used tradecraft.
> 
> But that's all bullshit we all know it's because Makoto showed up. And then Crunchyroll went ahead and posted that article, and the Internet lost its collective shit. Fucking hilarious.
> 
> God, what a time to be alive.
> 
> Anyway, I think I'm a little delirious from lack of sleep. I should go do something about that.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading! I really appreciate it! And I'll just say it, I don't care what waifu you subscribe to, so long as we can all agree that Persona 5 is an awesome video game and an unforgetable experience...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> .... and that Makoto's best girl YEAH I SAID IT


	60. Going Off the Rails

6/3

 

Crow watches the scenery go by out the window.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

He glances down at his gloved fingers, runs them over the armrest. _Sae Niijima_. The woman was, while still predictable, becoming more of a hassle to deal with as the days continued. Her bumbling little attempts at birthday talk, of all things, had caused his masks to slip.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

With the SID's resources, and the investigation into the Phantom Thieves official, Crow doesn’t need to worry about oversight or keeping his nose exceedingly clean. With the other plans he’s set in motion, he was sure to flush the Thieves out soon.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

Still, as fun as it was, no job came without drawbacks.

"What're you thinking about?" Asks the thing next to him.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

Crow sighs. "I'm thinking about how utterly annoying your chewing is."

"Fuh huh huh." It's a laugh. Or the approximation of one. It's a loud, booming, horrid thing. Animal noise.

And then.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

Crow turns to face his companion. "I don't appreciate my time wasted."

The Shadow of Junya Kaneshiro smiles back at him. He appears very much like the real Junya Kaneshiro. Tall. Muscular. Clean shaven. Close cropped hair. He's absent much of the glitz and glamor of his fellow Yakuza, at least here, in his Palace.

His teeth, however.

They shine like glass. Like razors. Each tooth is the size of Crow's thumb, and they all slide together into a jack-o'-lantern grin.

"And I don't appreciate my meals being interrupted. Not my fault you showed up when you did." He reaches into the bucket that lays between his legs, pulls out a fistful of fractured bones. His jaw unhinges, and the teeth slide open to reveal a terrible, gaping maw. He tosses the bones in, and the teeth snap shut.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

In another row, two cognitive representations of Kaneshiro's underlings sit, chuckling amongst themselves. They appear very normal. Very human.

That the denizens of Kaneshiro's Palace closely resemble their real world selves is a bit alarming.

Crow quiets the thought.

"Shall we get to it? Then we can both go back to doing whatever it is we do."

"I want a meeting."

Crow blinks. "A... meeting?" Realization hits hard. He stands. "You know _exactly_ what my services are for. You do _not_ contact me unless you've a request to make for a shutdown. I am not some messenger that-"

Kaneshiro thrusts his hand back into his bucket of bones. "I _did_ make a request, _Crow_ ," he says, with a sneer. "But you couldn't follow through with it. Had to make that other kid go schitzo and do the deed for you." He shakes his head. "Sloppy. Real sloppy."

Crow takes a few deep breaths. "I would remind you, that it was your organization's failure to keep your facility secure that led to the situation in the first place."

His grin, somehow, grows larger. "Don't misunderstand me. I hate being misunderstood. I'm glad things settled the way they did, but I figure that your poor handling should get me - real me, or whatever - some face time."

Crow glares down at the thing. "That is not how this works."

Kaneshiro lifts his hand over his head, tilts his face towards it, opens his mouth, and lets the bones drop into his gullet. He slams his mouth shut.

 _Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

He swallows, then shrugs. "I don't really care."

Silence, save for the Palace, moving along.

Crow lets his body relax. He lets his fingers hang loose. "This isn't a negotiation, _Shadow_. You do not dictate terms to me." He keeps his voice low, calm. "Don't tempt me. If I wanted to, I-"

Shadow Kaneshiro launches out of his seat to his full, hulking height. A hand lashes out and wraps itself around Crow's throat before he has time to react. The arm extends and slams Crow's head against the glass window so hard it cracks.

"Don't tempt _me_ , boy," it roars. The windows shake with each syllable. "I see you. You act big. You talk big. You walk big. But inside, you're _real_ small. If you wanted to, what? You could kill me? Execute a mental shutdown on me? _Try it_." Crow tries to push himself free, but the grip is firm. "So go back to your little hole, you self-important pissant, and tell the man upstairs what I've said. And tell him no more of this spooky science bullshit." He leans in, until Crow can smell his breath through his mask. The thing's eyes bore into his own. "I want _face_ to _face_."

He lets him go. Crow pushes himself away from the window, and sets about straightening his outfit. “Do not-” He starts, but Kaneshiro interrupts him once more.

“Spare me. I’m not interested in your posturing. Make no mistake. The head honcho of this whole thing may want to run the country.” He points out the window. Crow looks. “But this?” Kaneshiro says. “This is _my_ town.”

#

Makoto watches her sister as she eats. Hunched over her plate, Sae conveys the food to her mouth, bite by bite, via chopsticks. It's all so rote. She knows her sister's mind must be spinning someplace else.

What's more, she remembers the last time she tried talking with Sae. The bitter, awful rant her sister had spit at her.

She can't help it. The slithering in her mind won't stop. "Sis?" She begins. "Could I ask you something?"

Sae blinks, glances at her, and mutters over her rice, "Mmmhn?"

 _That's probably as good as it's going to get._ Makoto steels herself and forges ahead. "It’s about Principal Kobayakawa’s suicide."

Sae swallows, takes a sip of water, and nods. "What about it?" Her eyes narrow. "You haven't disclosed that to anyone, have you?"

Makoto shakes her head. She'd been told by the faculty what had happened, but until her talk with Toko-sensei, hadn't thought much beyond the official story, even if it was kept hidden from the rest of the student body. An official report was to be released later in the week, releasing the details of his death as they were understood. "No, of course not. But, well, has it come across your desk at work?"

"Why would it?" Sae asks, an edge to her voice.

Makoto shrugs. "I thought, maybe since you were related to someone attending Shujin, someone might show you the file. If there's a file, I mean."

Sae tucks her head and gazes down at her food. "There's no file," she says, and picks up another bite. She chews, then frowns and swallows. "Why would you think there'd be one?"

Makoto's throat feels like parchment, so she takes up her own glass and sips the water. "Do you..." She pauses, tries to piece together what she should say. "Are they sure it was suicide?"

Sae says nothing for a time. She just stares at her, with that blank look on her face. Then, "What makes you ask that?"

Makoto was prepared for the question. "It just seems odd. He didn't come off as suicidal."

"Many don't," Sae snaps, then the edges around her face soften. "They wear masks, showing the world what it wants to see. They smile, laugh. And inside... inside, it's like they've got knots tied up in their chest and head. They feel constricted and trapped and genuinely believe that things will not get better. They even convince themselves that once they're gone, things for everyone else will improve."

Makoto blinks. She hadn't expected that response. All she'd been trying to do was feel out her sister's thoughts on the matter. If the police had told Toko-sensei about the note, then there was no way Sae _didn’t_ know about it. And it meant that officials believed in the possibility that Kobayakawa's death wasn't of his own design. This was very different from what she'd expected. What she'd wanted.

She thinks of Shiho Suzui, and her broken body in Shujin's courtyard.

When she regains her composure, she notices the wilted look on her sister's face. "Are you okay?" Makoto asks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you think of things like that."

Sae shakes her head. "It's nothing. Just bad memories."

"Bad memories?"

Sae glances up at her, then shrugs. "I knew a girl. Back when I first got to high school. We weren't close. We weren't friends. But everyone liked being around her. She was friendly to everyone. She smiled. She laughed. And then one day, she took too many pills and she didn't wake up again."

The shock buckles her mind, so she distances herself from it with basic computation. Sae was twenty-four. She'd been fifteen when she began high school. So it would've been nine years ago that this happened. Makoto would've been nine herself. She casts her mind back, trying to remember. "I..." She starts. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember that."

Sae nods. "Dad didn't want me to tell you. He thought it would be too much for you. You were still... reeling from Mom's death. Introducing you to the concept of suicide with a real world example, wasn't something he was prepared to do."

Makoto's mind snaps to something. She remembers. Remembers being that age. Hearing some noise coming from Sae's room. Remembers walking in and seeing her sister, hunched over her desk, sobbing. Remembers asking her if she was okay. Remembers Sae turning to her, rage on her face, and screaming, "GET OUT," but it's not Sae's voice she hears in her mind. It's Suzui's.

_GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!_

Makoto shakes her head clear. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm so sorry, Sae."

Sae waves her concern away. "It's ancient history, Makoto. Not worth mentioning." Her sister's face grows cold. "But back to your question, why are you asking about your Principal's death? Have you heard something?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, I just thought it was strange. I spoke to him not too long ago, and-"

"You mean, when he blackmailed you?"

"Uh, right. I guess."

Sae straightens. "That reminds me. He told you to look into that Akira Kurusu boy." Makoto feels her heart race at the mention of his name, but she cannot tell why, and that terrifies her. "You said it was because the Principal thought he had something to do with Suguru Kamoshida's confession." Sae's lips purse. "Did he suspect _that_ boy of being one of the Phantom Thieves?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, I don't know what he thought." She stands. "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling very well. Please, excuse me." She turns and marches off towards her room.

She can feel Sae’s eyes on her back as she leaves, like a caterpillar scuttling across her skin. First she thinks, _Turn around_. Then she thinks, _Don’t turn around._

She retreats to her room and plops down on her bed. She sits in silence for a moment, then lowers herself to her side, and brings her knees to her chest. Her eyes drift to her desk. Illuminated by the lamp, sits the Buchimaru pencil case. Her favorite cartoon character's face stares back at her, blank and plastic.

She reaches into her pocket, and pulls out her phone.

Part of her wants to end all this. To just send him a message. She pulls up the app, and types it.

 ** _MAKOTO_** _: I want to talk to you_.

She stops. Deletes it.

 ** _MAKOTO_** _: I have to talk to you_.

She stops. Deletes it.

"Dammit," she whispers.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: ARE YOU A PHANTOM THIEF? Y/N?_

"Stupid," she says, as she deletes it.

She stares at the screen, and types the first message again.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: I want to talk to you._

She does too. She wants to talk to him so badly. The last thing he'd said to her had been, "I'm sorry." She turns her head until her face is buried in her blankets and lets out a long groan. She can't put her mind in order. One minute she's thinking of him like some vapid, love-struck star of a poorly written drama. the other she wonders if everything he told her was a lie. Because what if it was? What if Akira Kurusu was dangerous? The police had warned Toko-sensei of the possibility that the Phantom Thieves had killed Kobayakawa. If they'd killed Madarame as well, that'd be two homicides.

She remembers his little smirk. The way he would look at her. How diligently he worked under her tutelage. She remembers that day in the library, when Kamoshida had come for her, and how he'd said, "Makoto. Don't." She remembers how they'd been pressed up against each other on the school's roof, and how he'd begun to lean towards her. She remembers ;)

But she also remembers the look on his face, when she'd left Kamoshida's office, and found him in the hallway. He was standing there, breath coming in shuddering, ragged gasps, as the fire alarm blared in the background. She remembers the look in his eyes.

And she remembers the look he'd given her, that day when she'd crossed the line. The mad tirade he'd gone on, until she'd shut him up with her fist.

She looks at her phone again. The message remains.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: I want to talk to you._

She deletes it.

 _I've lost all control_ , she thinks. _I don't know what I'm doing anymore._

She tosses her phone to the floor and shuts her eyes, despite still wearing her uniform. She doesn't care anymore.

Exhausted, she begins to fade, and she thinks, _I wonder what he's doing right now_.

#

"... it was then, by some great manner of fortune, I discovered a new marketplace for my needs."

Akira nods. "Cool."

"To think, a place of such marvels existed this entire time, under my very nose!" Yusuke allows himself a self-deprecating chuckle. "I tell you, friends, I would surely have been lost without it. The _discounts_."

Akira checks his phone. Ryuji's running late. The two of them stand on the corner, exactly where Ryuji had told them to meet up. Morgana lounges across Akira's shoulder, and mumbles something about Boneheads and punctuality.

"Where was it?" Akira asks, as he returns his phone to his pocket.

"Pardon?"

"This new market you found. Where was it?"

Yusuke's eyes sparkle. "Ah. Prepare yourself. It was... _online_."

Akira blinks. "Wait, are you talking about the Internet?"

"Quite so."

Morgana stiffens. "The super awesome, hidden marketplace you found for art supplies was just, the Internet?"

A frown solidifies Yusuke's face. "You sound shocked at my shock."

"That's because everyone already knew about the Internet, Yusuke," Akira says.

"Everyone? Who is this everyone?"

"Literally, everyone." Akira makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. "The world."

Yusuke looks ready to say more, but a cry of, "Hey, dudes!" arrives from further down the block, and as one, they turn towards it.

Akira feels his face fall. Ryuji struts towards them, hand raised in the air. Behind him, shuffles Yuuki Mishima. "You've got to be kidding me."

Yusuke cocks his head to side. "Who is that depressing looking young man?"

"It's Yuuki Mishima," Morgana says, breaking in before Akira can answer. "He's the guy who operates the PhanSite for us. Sort of."

"Ah, he is an ally then."

Akira mutters, "Of convenience," and Morgana pats him on the head and whispers, "Be nice."

"No promises." The two step up to them, and Akira plasters a smile across his face. "What's up, guys?"

Yusuke steps up to Mishima. "Greetings."

"Uh, hi," Misihma replies. "I'm Yuuki Mishima. I go to school with Ryuji and Akira."

"And I am Yusuke Kitagawa, of Kosei High. I infiltrate the Metaverse and steal the hearts of criminals with Ryuji and Akira."

Akira bites the inside of his cheek to stop the groan. _Should've seen that coming_.

Mishima's eyes look as if they're about to pop and hit the concrete. "You're a Phantom Thief too?"

"I prefer the term, artist."

Akira slides up to Yusuke and claps him on the shoulder. "Okay, so now we're all acquainted. Let's see what Ryuji's got planned."

Mishima is undeterred. "I didn't know there were more of you guys."

Akira pats Yusuke's shoulder, but doesn't reply. _Guess I'll just have to have a conversation with them about what we tell and don't tell others. Again_. "So," he says, turning to Ryuji. "We're all here, yeah? Unless Maehara and Daisuke are about to turn the corner?" He nods towards a streetlight. "Nakanohara isn't hiding in the shadows, is he?" He knows the irritation is leaking into his voice, but Ryuji just keeps smiling.

"Why would they be coming?" He asks.

Akira shakes his head. "So, what's on the agenda?"

Ryuji nods towards the apartment building they stand alongside. "Let's head inside."

The group turns towards the building, but Akira speeds up to Ryuji and whispers, "I didn't know Mishima was coming."

Ryuji shrugs. "So? The guy needs a break too."

Akira wants to say more, but Ryuji steps past him and leads the pack towards the steps. Akira sighs and joins them, bringing up the rear. Morgana leans in and says, "I forget, does Mishima know I can talk?"

Akira runs through their previous interactions. "Crap. I don't remember. Just, try not to do anything blatantly human. Or something."

"Wow. Cool. Great. This is shaping up to be a real fun night for me."

"I'll make it up to you with fatty tuna, sound good?"

This mollifies the cat, and he stays silent as Ryuji leads them up to the second floor, and stops at a door overlooking the parking area. He takes a key from his pocket and fumbles with the lock for a moment, before it clicks, and he steps inside.

The others follow. The apartment is small but standard by Tokyo standards. A microscopic kitchen. A decently sized living room with a couch and television. A washroom down the hall. A door leads to a balcony overlooking a few houses.

They stop in the center of the living room. Ryuji turns to face them, a wide smile on his face. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper.

"What's that?" Mishima asks.

"Tonight's entertainment," Ryuji replies, with a chuckle. "Check it out."

He smooths out the page and thrusts it out towards the group.

The image is of a scantily clad woman, dressed in a maid's outfit, a vacuum in one hand, a duster in another. She smiles, daintily at the reader. It is otherwise covered in loud exclamations of, 'Service!' and 'Dream come True!' written in bold colors.

Akira runs his eyes over the page a few times. "Ryuji, what _exactly_ is this?"

"I ordered us a _maid!_ "

Akira, Mishima, and Yusuke glance at one another. It is Mishima who breaks the silence. "A maid? Like, a cleaning lady?"

"Dude," Ryuji says, and shoves the paper towards him. "Are you dense or something? Read between the lines, bro. A maid to _service us_. Get it?"

Silence.

Then, Akira asks, "Ryuji, did you order us a prostitute?"

Mishima's face pales. "What? Are you serious?"

"Fascinating," Yusuke whispers.

"You _idiot!_ " Morgana hisses.

"Guys, guys, chill." Ryuji pats the air with his hands. "She'll like, massage us and stuff. And she's gonna be totally hot."

"Oh my god, oh my god," Mishima whimpers. He lowers himself to the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I'm not ready for something like this!"

Ryuji rolls up the paper and swats him on the head. "Get your shit together, Yuuki! This is what growing up is all about. Experiencing this kind of thing. Becoming men!"

"I'm not a man!" Mishima cries. "I'm too young to be soliciting!"

Ryuji turns to Akira. "Dude, I know you're in on this. C'mon."

Akira stares at him. "In what context did you imagine I'd be down for this?"

Ryuji pales. "Yusuke?"

The boy nods. "I believe this experience will ultimately benefit me as an artist. My relationship with the carnal is somewhat lacking, and to capture true beauty, I would need to study the act of copulation as it unfolds."

Ryuji blinks. "Okay. Yusuke doesn't count. Akira, bro. You're a cool guy. You've got to have had experience with this, yeah?"

"Experience in ordering prostitutes? No, I don't."

"But you've like, you know..."

"What?" Akira demands.

Ryuji gyrates his hips. "You know..."

Akira mimics the movement. "What's this supposed to mean?"

Morgana swats him on the ear. "He's talking about sex, genius!"

"Sex?" Akira asks, eyes widening, face flushing. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Ryuji replies. "You've done that, right? I mean, you're into all that weird shit with Makoto."

"Makoto?" Mishima asks, stiffening. "The President?" He gasps. "Are you having sex with the Student Council President?"

"No," Akira screams. "No, I am _not_. And no one repeats that!"

Mishima's face scrunches up. "But, Ryuji said-"

Ryuji shakes his head. "I only meant that it seemed like he had specific preferences. Like, physical pain and shit, and-"

"Really?" Mishima asks.

Akira throws his hands against his head. "Ryuji, stop talking!"

Yusuke frowns. "I have heard that various types of pain can be a gateway to particular pleasures."

"No one asked you!" Morgana spits.

Mishima's hands shake. "Hey, we can just leave, right? Like, why don't we all just split? Right out the door?"

Ryuji grimaces. "Thing is, I kinda already paid for it."

"Huh?" Mishima asks. "How much?"

"How?" Akira asks.

"Over the phone," Ryuji replies. "And it was five thousand yen."

"Five thousand yen?" Mishima's jaw drops.

"That's quite expensive," Yusuke puts in. "Do ladies of the night typically warrant such a price?"

"I don't know!" Ryuji replies.

"What was your ultimate plan here, Ryuji?" Akira asks. "Was she going to service all of us? Was it five thousand yen for four dudes, and a cat?"

He frowns. "Well, uh, no. I think it was only five thousand yen for one person, so-"

"So, in that case, she'll probably be pretty pissed if she shows up and finds a bunch of people expecting to be 'serviced.'"

Ryuji doesn't reply, eyes shut, face scrunching. "Okay, yeah," he says, a few moments later. "That's a good point."

The doorbell rings.

"Oh, shit," Ryuji whispers.

Akira spins towards the door. "The hell? What time did you tell her to show up?"

"Like, around now."

"I can't do this!" Mishima screeches. "I'm not ready to become a man!" He scrambles towards the balcony.

"Crap, crap, crap," Ryuji cries. "Akira, stall her!"

"What? Me? Why?"

"You're experienced in these things, that's why!"

"We already established I'm not!"

Ryuji isn't listening. Mishima, having furiously worked the door open, has vanished out onto the balcony. Ryuji follows him, and slams it shut behind them. They are quickly out of sight.

Akira hears the closet door shudder open, and he turns to find Yusuke stepping inside. "What're you doing?"

"As I said," Yusuke replies. "I believe that this observation will further improve my talents as an artist." He smiles. "Try not to disappoint me." Inside, he shuts the closet door.

Morgana hops down and lands on the carpet. Akira stares at him. " _How_ have we not been caught by the police yet?"

"Don't know, but good luck." Morgana darts away, and under the couch.

Akira is about to protest, when he hears, muffled, "Master? May I come in?"

The voice is high, and obviously not the woman's every day one. All at once, the only thing Akira can think of is the excruciating torment Makoto will visit upon him were she ever to learn of this.

"Uh, no thanks," he calls. "We, _I_ , changed my mind. I'm good."

Silence. Then, "I should remind you, Master. Services have already been paid for." He hears the doorknob jiggle. "Oh, looks like it's unlocked. I'll be coming inside, Master."

_Oh, come on! Who forgot to lock the fucking door?_

Akira turns as the door opens, facing the balcony. There's no sign of Ryuji or Mishima. Yusuke is eerily quiet in the closet, and he's willing to bet Morgana has relocated his hiding place to a more secure location.

He hears the _clack clack clack_ of heels on wood, then, "Greetings, Master!" Her voice is singsong and cutesy. "My name is Becky!"

Akira is positive this woman's name is not Becky.

 _How do I get out of here? If I had Morgana, I could throw him at her, and use the distraction to make a run for it_.

"Gosh, Master, you sure look young. You wouldn't happen to be a high school student, would you?"

Akira winces. "Uh, no," he replies, doing his best to make his voice as gruff as he can. "I just look young for my age."

"Oh, wow. That's so interesting, Master! Would you mind turning around, so I could see your face?"

 _Nothing to it but to do it. Here we go_.

Akira turns around.

_Focus. I can do this. Explain this was all a misunderst-_

He stares at her.

 _Holy shit, that's Kawakami_.

His homeroom teacher stares back at him. Her hair is pulled back in twin pigtails. The maid outfit clings to her curves, and accentuates her - apparently considerable - cleavage. Her skirt is frilly and reveals just enough of her legs to draw the eye, before they're hidden again within a pair of sable boots.

The silence stretches. Then, Kawakami-sensei says, "Ah, fuck." Her high, dainty voice is gone. In its stead is the worn, tired drawl Akira has come to associate with his homeroom teacher.

Because he cannot think of anything to say, he blurts out, "Uh, hi."

Kawakami does not blush. She does not move to cover herself. Instead, she glares daggers. "And just what do you think you're doing, Kurusu?"

His mouth moves faster than his brain. "This is a big misunderstanding. I didn't think it'd be you. I mean, why would it be you, right? I didn't mean to be here at all, and this isn't anything it's not supposed to be. And have you seen a cat, by chance? I've lost mine, and-"

"Kurusu. Stop talking."

He shuts up.

Kawakami huffs and crosses her arms. "God, this is embarrassing," she mutters. "Of all the people to call, it had to be one of my students."

A thump sounds from the closet.

Kawakami's eyes widen and turn towards the noise. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Akira shouts.

Kawakami marches over, and yanks the door open.

"Hello," Yusuke says.

"Who the hell is this?" She hisses, whipping her head to face Akira.

"That's my friend. He likes to watch." His eyes widen. "That came out wrong! He likes to watch people doing stuff. Not _that_ kind of stuff, but-"

Kawakami turns to Yusuke. "You. Leave. Now."

Yusuke nods. "Yes, that would probably be for the best. It does not seem as if you two will join as lovers anytime soon."

"Get out!" Both Akira and Kawakami scream.

Yusuke speeds his way out of the apartment, and shuts the door behind him.

Kawakami shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Then, she asks, "What is going on, Kurusu?"

"I can explain," Akira replies. "My friend set this whole thing up." No need to name drop Ryuji. "But he didn't tell us what was going on until we got here. I wanted to call the whole thing off, but then you rang the doorbell, so that one guy hid in the closet and my other friend ran off."

"So, Sakamoto set this up." It is not a question.

Akira blinks. "How'd you know?"

"You've only got, like, two friends. Three if you count the perv in the closet. Besides, he's dumb enough to have thought this was a good idea."

Akira doesn't point out that _she's_ the one in the apartment dressed as a maid. Instead, he frowns, and says, "That doesn't sound like something a teacher should say."

Kawakami gestures to her outfit. "Maybe you didn't notice, _Master_ , but I'm not in my role as a teacher right now." She glances towards the kitchen. "Got anything to drink?"

Akira shrugs. "I dunno."

She clomps her way over to the fridge, opens the door, and peers inside. Despite himself, Akira finds his eyes traveling down the length of her body. _Damn_.

"Stop staring," Kawakami says, face still in the fridge.

"I-"

"You're a teenager."

Akira decides his best move is to stay quiet.

"Here we go," Kawakami says, and pulls out a can of beer. Akira is somewhat shocked to see it. Given Ryuji's aversion to alcohol, perhaps he didn't know his cousin had left them. She cracks the can and takes a sip. "So, Sakamoto's going to jump out any second, right? With a camera?"

Akira shakes his head. "No, I told you, he ran off. Besides, he wouldn't do something like that." He's no idea if Ryuji and Mishima are still on the balcony. Perhaps they jumped.

"Uh-huh," she replies. "No need to beat around the bush. Might as well get your kicks in. It's not like I'm going to have a job at Shujin come tomorrow."

Akira frowns. "Why?"

Kawakami takes another sip. "Don't get smart with me, Kurusu. You're gonna post this, right? Hop on the internet and spread the word?"

Akira blinks. "I'm not going to do that." He rewinds the last few minutes in his head. At no point has he considered exposing his teacher's secret.

Kawakami snorts. " _Right_."

He shakes his head. "I'm not."

"Okay, sure." She laughs, but the sound has no humor in it. "You expect me to believe someone like you wouldn't tell the whole school their teacher moonlights as... well, this?" She gestures to her outfit once more.

There's a dull ringing in Akira's ears. "Someone like me?"

"It'd get you in good. No doubt about it. Take their attention off you for a few minutes."

He feels the heat rise to his face. "I don't care about any of that. I'm not going to tell anyone."

She rolls her eyes. "The school will love that. Especially after all that Kamoshida crap, not to mention Kobayakawa's suicide. Shujin can't take much more. Toko-sensei will have me out on my ass, thanks to you." Again, that awful, tired, hateful laugh.

Akira's hands tighten into fists. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Sensei."

"Don't rub it in with the 'Sensei' crap, Kurusu. Just get on with it, and -"

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he spits out. "How many times do I have to fucking say it?"

"Hey," she shouts. "Don't you curse at me, Kurusu!"

"Then stop blaming me for something I haven't even done!" His legs wobble. His hands shake. A few dots of light swim in his vision. Akira takes a few staggered steps over to the couch, and sits down.

"Kurusu?" Kawakami asks. She sets the beer down on the kitchen counter, and comes over to him. "Are you alright?" Akira nods, but his mouth tastes dry. She crouches down next to him. "Crap. Okay. Breathe. Just breathe Kurusu."

He does. His words find him quickly. "I'm fine. I'm fine." He glances over at her. Absurdly, the only concrete thought that manages to worm itself into his brain is, _Man, Sensei's hot_. "Could I have some water?" He asks, not because he needs it, but because he's suddenly desperate for his homeroom teacher-slash-maid to be further away from him.

"Yeah, sure." She stands, and beelines back into the kitchen. She fumbles around in the cupboard until she finds a glass, then holds it under the sink until it's practically filled to the brim. She brings it over to him and holds it out.

A bit of water spills as he takes it from her, but he doesn't make a comment, choosing instead to drown whatever he was going to say in large gulps.

He downs half the glass, and she asks, "Are you alright?"

He nods. "Yeah, I think the weirdness of the situation just got to me."

She laughs then, and it's not humorless one from earlier. This is genuine. "You and me both." She frowns. "You're really not going to tell anyone about this?"

Akira sighs and takes another sip. "I mean, hell, if you want me to I can go ahead and-"

"Alright, alright," she cuts in. Her eyes run over the apartment. "I suppose that wasn't really fair. Sorry. And in a way this beats what I thought the assignment was going to be."

Akira clears his throat. He's not ready to think yet, and so blurts into the silence, "Uh, why exactly, are you doing this?"

"Keep your pants on, Kurusu," Kawakami says, and shakes her head. "We're not besties, so let's not start reading one another's diaries, okay?"

Akira lifts his free hand up in surrender. "Fine, fine."

Kawakami crosses her arms once more, and frowns. "How about this? You pretend you never saw me like this, and I pretend you didn't use a fake name to order a maid."

Akira mulls this over. "That's... fair, I guess?"

Kawakami nods. "This was actually my last gig of the night, so I guess I can just head home. Not a bad outcome, all things considered." She eyes him up and down. "Aside from the obvious."

"I'm not exactly thrilled either, Sensei."

"Isn't this a standard teenage fantasy? I'm not that old, you know." Her smirk is teasing.

Akira rolls his eyes. "I mean, yeah, but I'm not one to indulge in fantasies."

She laughs. The good one. "Oooh, look at you. ’I don't indulge in fantasies.'" She sways her head as she says it, melodramatic. "I suppose your ideal woman is of a more _political_ nature, yeah?"

"Huh?" Akira asks. "Political? I don't-" And then he remembers the conversation from earlier. He feels the crimson enter his cheeks, and can't do a thing about it. "Whoa, wait a second, what do you-"

Kawakami laughs again. "I knew it." She turns and marches back into the kitchen, snatches up the beer, and downs it in a series of deep gulps. She wipes her lips with her forearm once done, and sets the can back on the counter. "Alright, I'm out of here. Be careful getting home. See you in class, Kurusu."

And then she picks up her bag, which Akira is sure is filled with things he cannot begin to imagine, and walks out the door.

The bathroom door opens from the inside. Morgana pokes his head out.

"Was that-"

"Yes," Akira replies.

"And she was-"

"Yes," Akira replies.

Morgana turns to glance at the apartment's shut door. "Whoa."

"Yeah." Akira sighs, and stands. He steps into the kitchen, takes the empty can, and drops it into the recycling bin. "I guess we should go find the others."

#

Iwai stands by the door, tapping his foot. "Would you hurry up?" He calls, back into the gloom of the shop.

Kaoru's voice rebounds from deeper inside. "Coming! I'm- ah!" And then the sound of dozens of boxes falling over.

Iwai lets out a long sigh, shoves his hands in his pockets, and marches towards the sound.

He finds Kaoru flat on his back, a dazed look on his face, encircled by numerous boxes of model guns. The kid shakes his head, and looks up at him, a sheepish look on his face. "S-sorry, Dad."

"Uh-huh," Iwai says, and holds out a hand.

Red tint in his face, Kaoru reaches up and takes his father's hand, and Iwai pulls him to his feet. "I'll clean it up right away," he says, and turns towards the mess.

Iwai reaches up a hand and gently smacks the boy on the back of the head. It's barely a tap, but Kaoru lets out an, "Ow," just the same. "Forget it," Iwai tells him. "Just pile them up right there, I'll take care of it in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't be sayin' it if I wasn't," Iwai replies. Kaoru sets off to the task, and Iwai frowns. "So," he says. "Wanna get some imagawayaki on the way home?"

Kaoru turns to him, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Seriously? Can we?"

"Why the hell not?" Iwai asks him. The boy flinches and Iwai decides to soften his approach. "Yeah, course we can." He shrugs. "We had a pretty good day today."

"Okay, cool!" Kaoru returns to his task with enthusiasm, and Iwai leaves him to it. He takes a sucker from his pocket, unwraps it and slides it into his mouth. Recently, whenever he's done so, a voice in the back of his head mumbles something about cavities and dentists, and he chuckles at this. _Guess it has been a while_. He doesn't want to think about what the X-rays would no doubt reveal.

The door to the shop rings. "We're closed," Iwai growls out, without even taking a look.

"Even for me?" Comes a voice.

Akimitsu Tsuda stands in the entryway of the store, a small smile on his face.

Iwai stares at the man, openmouthed. Tsuda's brows rise in expectation, and Iwai cuts across the floor to him and spreads his arms wide.

The two men embrace and clap each other on the back. "Been a long time, brother," Tsuda says.

Iwai scoffs. "That's on you, you son of a bitch. You knew where to find me."

They step away from each other. Tsuda looks him up and down. "Fuck, you got old."

Iwai punches him in the shoulder. "No shit. You look like garbage yourself."

Tsuda throws back his head and laughs. It's the same one Iwai remembers. "True. One too many nights at the hostess clubs finally caught up with me. Used to be, I could drink all night and run circles around Shibuya. Nowadays, I down a shot can barely open my front door."

Iwai lets out a feigned sigh. "Where'd all the damn time go?"

"Where it always goes, to the fuckin' kids."

"Dad?" Kaoru's voice comes from the aisle, and Iwai stiffens.

"Oh, speaking of!" Tsuda exclaims, as the boy steps into view. He leans over and whispers, "This him?"

Iwai nods, and replies, in an equally low voice. "Yeah, go easy on him, okay?" Then, he motions for Kaoru to come approach. "This is an old friend of mine, Kaoru. His name's Akimitsu Tsuda."

Kaoru bows. "Nice to meet you, Tsuda-san."

Tsuda laughs. "Wow, you got one hell of a proper kid here, Muneisha. How old are you?"

Kaoru swallows before he replies. 'Um, thirteen, sir."

"Thirteen," Tsuda says, and shakes his head. "Man, the shit I got up to when I was your age." He jabs Iwai in the stomach with his elbow. "Say, Kaoru. How's your lady situation? Your old man teaching you all his tricks?"

Kaoru tilts his head to the side. "Huh? Tricks?"

Iwai lets out a long laugh and wraps an arm around Tsuda's shoulders. "Say, why don't we step outside, eh?" He turns to his son. "Make sure that mess is all cleaned up, yeah? I'll be right back."

He turns and leads the middle-aged man towards the front door. Kaoru says something in response, but Iwai ignores him. Tsuda may be an old friend, but his storytelling always tended to skew towards the more inappropriate bits.

He pushes the door open and leads his sworn brother outside. When the door clangs shut, he lets go of his friend and says, "So, what's up?"

Tsuda frowns. "I can't visit?"

Iwai shakes his head. "I'm happy to see you, brother. But you wouldn't be here if it wasn't important." Tsuda opens his mouth, but Iwai holds up his hand. "And listen, there's something else. Kaoru doesn't know shit about the past."

Tsuda's eyes widen. "Wait. He doesn't know? About you?" He rolls up the sleeve of his dress shirt, revealing an aging tattoo of a scaled dragon. "About this?"

Iwai shakes his head. "No. I mean, the kid suspects, sure. But-"

"Munehisa," Tsuda says. "Holy shit, bro. You can't just hope for the best here, man. Kid's got glasses, right? That means he's smart. He's gonna figure it out."

Iwai lets out a long growl. "I know, alright? Just, let me deal with it. Now what'd you need?"

Tsuda clams up, shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I know you're out, but you've heard about what's been happenin', right?"

Iwai scowls, looks back towards the entrance of his shop to make sure Kaoru isn't sneaking a peek. He turns back to his friend. "Kaneshiro, right?"

Tsuda sucks his teeth, turns away, and spits. "Yeah. Guy's a fuckin'... well, I'm sure you've heard. I don't like it. Thought his little disappearing act three years ago would be permanent, but there're whispers, ya know? Talk of connections. Outside the Group. Outside all the Groups."

Iwai shakes his head, stares at the concrete beneath his feet. "I can't get involved. I'm sorry. I am. I've got the kid."

"Not too many bastards like us left, Munehisa," Tsuda says. "Shit you'd say would go a long way."

Iwai shakes his head. "I doubt it. What is it, anyway? The thing Kaneshiro's pushing for so much?"

Tsuda stares at the sign for 'Untouchable' for a while. Then, he says, "Manpower."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll didn't think I forgot, did you?
> 
> KANESHIRO!!!!!!!!
> 
> I've been waiting for this. Oh, and yeah, I've taken some liberties with him. Like, a lot of liberties.
> 
> It's hard to imagine we're finally here! You know, now that I think about it, I started posting Crimson in late June of last year. But when I started, I already had three weeks worth of chapters ready to go. If I'm not mistaken, that means I probably started writing Crimson right around this time last year.
> 
> Wow! What a year!
> 
> I got to write this! I got to talk to all of you wonderful people! I got a new coffee table.
> 
> And there was all that bullshit about getting married, finishing grad school, and getting a new job.
> 
> Thank you very much for sticking with me this last year. I know some of you didn't start reading Crimson right away, and I'm sure some of you have only just read it recently, but very grateful for every one of you.
> 
> See you guys on Monday!


	61. Listen

6/4

 

Akira stands in the alley before Shujin, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed to the pavement.

Morgana's head pokes from his bag.

Ryuji leans against the alley's brick, mouth ajar. "Kawakami-sensei?" He asks.

"Kawakami-sensei," Akira tells him. Ryuji wouldn't say anything. Despite the perception of Ryuji Sakamoto being a blabbermouth, he'd demonstrated the ability to keep it shut. Especially if it didn't pertain to the Phantom Thieves.

Still, it never hurt to check. "You're not going to say anything, right?"

Ryuji's jaw snaps shut, and his eyes widen by a fraction. "Course not, man. I won't say anything. She drives me nuts sometimes, but I wouldn't do her like that. That's crazy, though. Why the hell would she be doing that kind of shit?" He stares across the street at the school's entrance. "Guess teachers don't make much."

"I never got around to asking," Akira says.

"What's important," Morgana puts in, "is that we act like nothing happened. If Kawakami thinks we leaked her secret, she may just report us for revenge."

Ryuji nods. "Got it."

"We shouldn't say anything to Mishima either," Akira says.

Ryuji opens his mouth, as if to speak, but he shuts it a moment later, whatever he'd thought to say dying before it reached open air. "Alright. We probably don't need to worry about Yusuke either, right? It's not like he's got any link to Sensei." His lips purse and his eyes dart down the alley and towards the school. Then, he leans in closer. "So, how'd she look? Was she hot?" A grin creeps its way over his face. "Gotta admit, I'm a little jealous."

Akira chuckles. "If you hadn't bugged out along with Mishima, you'd have caught a glimpse too."

Ryuji frowns. "Don't remind me."

Akira double checks the area. "But yeah, she's pretty hot."

Ryuji groans. "I freakin' knew it."

Ryuji and Mishima had, in their boundless wisdom, decided to lower themselves off the balcony and onto the concrete below. It had worked, if you could count torn shirts, and scuffed knees and elbows as 'working.' They'd crept into the shadows of nearby shrubbery to wait, but Mishima had begun to further freak out at the prospect of a 'potential sting operation,' and the only way to calm him down had been for Ryuji to escort him to the subway station. By the time he'd returned, the commotion was over, and everyone had gone their separate ways.

Now, the blonde boy sighs. "What a bust."

"It's not like I had an awesome time," Akira says, and slaps him on the shoulder. "She mostly just scolded me. And drank a beer. It was weird." He frowns. "Actually, it was very weird. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do in class."

"Just don't make eye contact," Morgana tells him. "Keep your head down, like you always do."

Akira shrugs. "I guess."

The two boys exit the alley and head for the school. Ryuji stretches his arms overhead and yawns as they cross the road. "I was so psyched to hear about what happened that I hardly slept. Oh well. But man, Kawakamai-sensei moonlights as a maid. I'm freakin' flabbergasted." Akira and Morgana both turn to face him. "What?"

"Did you just say, 'flabbergasted?'" Akira asks.

His eyes narrow. "So? I know words and shit."

"Okay, my bad," Akira says, chuckling. They turn to enter Shujin. _At least it's a Saturday_.

Ryuji slaps his forehead as they reach the front steps. "Oh, that reminds me, dude. Yusuke!"

"What about him?" Akira asks, as they start to climb.

"Well, I'd say it's time to bring him to Takemi's for a checkup. You promised her you'd bring him by, and it's been a while."

Akira groans. "I know. I've been meaning to, but haven't had the time. Man, she's going to be _pissed_."

"Don't sweat it," Ryuji says. "We'll go with him. For moral support and stuff."

"Moral support?"

Ryuji frowns. "I know the dude's weird and all, but he's probably a bit freaked out to go back to the doctor's. I mean, last time he had to hear about how he was all malnourished and crap. Who knows what he thinks it going to happen this time?"

Morgana leans out of the bag. "That's pretty considerate of you, Ryuji. I agree. We should all go with Yusuke."

Ryuji grins. "Right? So, come on. Let's bring him then. It's not like she's super busy."

Akira nods. "Okay. Sure." They reach the top of the steps, and Akira reaches out to push open Shujin's front door. If he hadn't, he might've noticed the thumbs-up Ryuji flashed Morgana.

#

Class is not easy.

Despite Morgana's advice, Akira's eyes keep stealing their way towards Kawakami. A few darting images of her in her maid outfit pop into his head. He tries to force them away, but they burrow in, and Akira swears he can hear the word, "Master!" echo in the back of the room.

It doesn't help that Kawakami keeps glancing towards him. She sits at her desk, head dipped forward, but Akira can feel her eyes shifting towards him.

The classroom has always been a stifling place for him, but this is a different kind of pressure. Before, he could always feel the animosity and mistrust bubbling off the other students. It filled the room like the smell of rot. Now, he feels like he's in a sniper's crosshairs. Once she lines up the perfect shot, his brains will be splattered against the room's back wall.

"Keep calm," Morgana whispers.

"Hey," Ann says, and she leans back towards him. "What's going on with you two?"

"Huh?" Akira asks.

"Kawakamai-sensei and you," she whispers. "You guys keep staring at each other."

"You can tell?"

"Uh, yeah."

_Shit_. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Ann replies. She starts to turn towards him. "It's seriously weirding me out."

"It's _nothing_ ," Akira hisses back. He drops his eyes to his desk, and resolves to keep them there for the duration of the class.

Morgana pokes his head out. "Maybe you should tell her."

"Right," Akira whispers, at his lowest possible voice. "I should tell Ann that Ryuji ordered a maid that happened to be out homeroom teacher."

The day drags itself along.

#

It feels like there are spiders crawling around in her brain. Every achingly slow second, she expects the other shoe to drop. She expects her name to be uttered over the loudspeaker - she half expects it to be Kobayakawa's voice - or for one of the senior teachers to pop in and out her.

She'd been _so_ careful. Her work relationships were strictly professional. Her students were kept at an arm's length. Her requests were _supposed_ to be vetted.

Kawakami had resigned herself to another night of some old sceev's eyes traversing her body, watching her scrub or dust or any of the other things that - for whatever reason - got their jollies off. Sure, she hated it. But the money was decent, and that was what she needed. You can't repay debts on a teacher's salary. You just couldn't. That was a fact.

Then she'd walked into that apartment and it had been Akira _fucking_ Kurusu standing there. Of all the students it could've been. Hell, if it had been Yuuki Mishima - bless his heart - she could've just intimidated him into silence. She didn't know how to handle Kurusu. He'd ditched class his first day at Shujin! But he'd done well on his tests. He was friends with Ryuji Sakamoto. But he'd gone to his study appointments with Makoto Niijima. He didn't participate in student activities at all. But he was apparently a pillar of support for Ann Takamaki, and the poor girl had come so close to falling apart after Suzui's suicide attempt.

So, what was he? Delinquent? Misunderstood?

When she'd realized it was him in that apartment, her panic had set in. She'd tried to cover it by being domineering - being in her other line of work had taught her a thing or two about domination - and had vented what she figured would be the end result. Akira Kurusu would spill the beans on her.

Only, he'd almost had a panic attack when she'd said that. Then again, maybe that was an act? But why would he have needed to act? He had her in the palm of his hand, but maybe he didn't realize that.

The bell rings, and the sound retrieves her mind from her many racing thoughts. The school day is over. The students rise, bow, and begin to make their exit.

Before she can think about whether it's a good idea or not, she calls out, "Kurusu, I'd like you to stay a moment."

The remaining students are polite enough to hold their snickers until they're out in the hall.

Takamaki casts a worried glance back at Kurusu, then speeds the rest of her way out of the classroom.

Akira Kurusu stands rigid alongside her desk. Neither of them say anything.

Then, stupidly, she asks, "Any plans for the weekend?" She had intended to say one of many other things, but this was what came out.

Kurusu blinks. Oddly enough, his bag seems to shift on its own, from where it's slung over his shoulder. "Uh," he replies. "I'm taking my friend to the doctor's."

Kawakami blinks. "Oh. That's... considerate."

He shrugs.

She feels a scowl spread over her face. She throws her hands in the air. "Oh, for crying out loud! Enough."

"Enough?" Kurusu asks, taking a step back.

"Not you," she growls. "Me." She shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out over the span of five seconds. _Come on Sadayo! Focus!_ It's a technique she used to deploy back when she first started teaching. She opens her eyes. "I noticed that I still have a job."

Kurusu nods, slowly. "I noticed that too."

"I figured after our little run-in last night, I would show up this morning and find the contents of my desk tossed out onto the street."

Kurusu's face sags. His lips suck in on themselves a fraction, and his eyes take on a faraway, glazed look. She remembers this. He'd looked just like it in Kobayakawa's office, almost two months ago.

"I told you," he mumbles. "I wasn't going to tell anyone."

She sighs, and stands up. "And I guess I'm sorry that I didn't exactly believe you." She summons as much of her guts as she can, and gives him a little bow. "So there."

Kurusu stares at her. "It's, uh, fine. Yeah." A bit of animation returns to his cheeks and eyes.

Kawakami straightens. "Good. Now go and enjoy your weekend. Or take your friend to the doctor's, or whatever it is you're doing."

Kurusu nods and heads for the door.

"Kurusu."

He looks back at her.

She arches a brow. "Taking your friend to the doctor isn't a euphemism for doing drugs, is it?"

A smirk digs at the corners of his mouth. "If it was, do you think I'd tell you, Sensei?"

"Get out of here, Kurusu."

He leaves.

#

Takemi glowers. Akira has never seen someone glower before, but the look she gives him must qualify. Her feet are up on her office's countertop, and a clipboard is held between freshly-painted fingers.

She rolls her eyes, glacially, over to Yusuke, who wilts beneath them.

"Why _exactly_ , are you all here?"

Akira wonders that himself. Ryuji had asked him to come to Takemi's by way of support for Yusuke. He'd been a bit surprised to find Ann waiting along with them at Shibuya Station. Morgana had been overly quiet, which rarely boded well.

"Moral support!" Ryuji parrots.

Yusuke nods. "I admit to some trepidation given my poor state of health."

Takemi sighs and takes her feet off the desk. She stands. "You," she says, and points at Ryuji. "You." At Ann. "You." At Yusuke. "Take the cat, and wait outside."

Akira doesn't realize he's gulped until his throat is halfway through the process. He removes his bag and hands it to Ryuji, who leaves with the others.

Akira stands there, desperately wanting to move or do _something_ , but too afraid to engage in any kind of movement.

"I don't appreciate my patients absconding in the middle of the day," Takemi says. "And I really don't like their location being kept a secret from me. Especially when they're in poor health."

"He was with me," Akira says. "He stayed with me at LeBlanc until we could settle thing for him. As for all the other stuff, I can explain-"

She holds up a hand. "Let me go first. Stop me if I'm wrong. That boy out there, Yusuke Kitagawa, is the latest addition to your little band of do-gooders. You all decided to change Madarame's heart, which you somehow managed to do. Now, you're trying to bury the hatchet with me, so I'll keep selling you medicine. I'm assuming you're running low, yes?" Akira nods. "So, you bring him here, now, all of you, as what? Some sort of apology? He _collapsed_ Akira. And he was apparently staying with you for a full," she peers over at a calendar on the wall, " _two weeks_ , before you brought him back?"

Akira's words tumble from his mouth. "I mean, we were feeding him, and-"

"He's not a pet, Akira. And that's not how malnutrition works! You don't just shovel food into his mouth and say, 'Problem solved!'"

"He got expelled," Akira protests. "He got kicked out of school and out of his home. We had to change Madarame's heart fast, or he would've been homeless. I know it wasn't the best solution, but it's the only thing I could think of and-"

"And you didn't think to ask for help?" She yells.

Akira shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He mirrors the exhale that he'd seen Kawakami use earlier. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know I screwed things up. You were worried about Yusuke and-"

"I was worried about _you!_ " She shouts, and slaps the clipboard down on the desk. Akira jumps. "Yes, _of course_ I was concerned for Kitagawa. But I don't know how you do the things you do, Akira. You tell me not to worry, but I've seen you with your face half-caved in. I've seen you shaking like a leaf in my examination room. You've witnessed someone die in front of you. You've witnessed a horrific accident. And whenever I ask you what's going on, you tell me 'trust you' and then you run off and I have to hear about the latest Phantom Thief operation from the news, and then you just sort of _show up_ later and give me one word explanations and try to play the meek schoolboy." She lifts her now empty hands and gestures towards his neck, making strangling motions. "God, you drive me _crazy!_ "

Akira feels his jaw working, but no sounds come out. His mind is blank. Tae Takemi glares out at him from her office, face red, eyes clear. Moments tick by, and her features soften. "Have you at least found a therapist?" She looks at him, as if expecting a negative answer.

Akira thinks of Lala-chan. "Yes."

Her brows rise. "Seriously?"

Akira thinks of Crossroads. "Yep."

"Anyone I would know?"

Akira is about to say, 'not unless you frequent cross-dressing bars in Shinjuku,' but for all he knows, Takemi _does_ hang out in a spot like that, and really, there's no reason to give her more incentive to be pissed at him.

"Probably not."

"How often do you go?"

"Once a week. On Wednesdays."

She nods. "Well... good. Good." She jerks her head towards the door. "Send Kitagawa in. I'll take a look at him."

Akira nods, and begins to back away. "I'm sorry I worried you, Takemi-san."

Tae just waves her hand through the air. It isn't until Akira's outside that he realizes Takemi never asked about Madarame's murder.

#

Akira sits in the waiting room. Ann lounges on the chair next to him, flipping through a magazine. Ryuji paces the room, a frown on his face. Morgana lays curled in Akira's lap, watching the blonde boy walk.

"Would you relax?" He asks.

"Give me a break," Ryuji replies. "I'm nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Morgana protests. "Yusuke's with Takemi. She'll take care of him."

"I know that. But what if he's got something seriously wrong with him?"

"Like what?"

"Like, I dunno. Permanent damage or whatever."

Morgana rolls his eyes. "He's not going to have permanent damage, Bonehead."

Ann shuts the magazine and groans. "Morgana's right, Ryuji. Stop with the pacing, it's driving me nuts."

Ryuji halts, glares at her, then shrugs. "Screw this, I'm gonna go check on him."

Akira shakes his head. "Don't. Takemi told us to wait here."

"Takemi's paying attention to Yusuke," Ryuji counters. "I'm just going to listen at the door."

Akira straightens in his chair. "No, seriously. That's a bad idea, Ryuji."

"It'll be fine," Ryuji replies, and heads for the exam room hallway.

Akira opens his mouth to protest further, but Morgana cuts in. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." He hops down to the floor and follows Ryuji into the hall.

Akira leans back in his chair, offering a prayer to whatever god was listening that the two didn't make things worse.

Silence stretches. Akira's gaze darts over towards Ann. "So, how's Shiho?"

Ann doesn't reply right away. "She fell the other day during physical therapy."

"Seriously? Is she okay?"

"She's upset, but she'll get past it. She's tough."

Akira nods. "You didn't say anything."

Ann's lips turn downwards, ever so slightly. "I told Ryuji. It wasn't a big deal."

Akira runs his tongue over the back of his teeth. _But you didn't tell me._

He opens his mouth, but Ryuji and Morgana burst back into the room.

"Guys!" Morgana shouts.

"We've got a problem!" Ryuji blurts.

Akira and Ann stand. "Is it Yusuke?" Akira asks.

"No, it's worse," Ryuji replies, and motions for them to follow. "Come on."

"Hurry," Morgana hisses.

"What's going on?" Ann asks, as the four of them charge into the hall.

"You'll see," Ryuji says, leading the way. He takes them away from Yusuke's room, towards a room near the end of the hall Akira hasn't been in before. "It's in there."

"In where?" Akira asks.

Ryuji throws the door open and holds it for them. "Hurry, get inside. You'll see when you get there."

"What-?" Ann start, but Morgana interrupts with, "Get in already!"

Akira steps inside, followed by Ann. He looks around. "Is this a storage room?" He asks, and his question is answered by the slamming of a door, and the click of a lock. He turns around. "What the hell?"

He shares the room with only Ann. The girl stares at the newly shut door, wide eyed. "Ryuji, what are you doing?" She walks up to the door and grabs the knob. It doesn't turn.

"It's for your own good," comes Ryuji's voice from the other side. "You guys aren't leaving until you hash everything out."

"What?" Akira shouts, and joins Ann at the door. "Are you insane? Let us out!"

"No!" It's Morgana this time. "You guys have been on the outs for weeks, and we're sick of it. I'm sorry Lady Ann, but we can't stand by and watch this happen any longer."

Akira tries the knob again. Nothing. "Guys, seriously. Open the door."

"Not until you guys settle all your bullshit," Ryuji replies. "Sorry, bro. But this goes beyond us. This is about the Phantom Thieves. We can't keep doing this. Besides, it sucks hanging with you guys when you're like this."

Akira and Ann glance at one another, then quickly away. "Ryuji," Ann cries. "I swear, if you don't open this door right now-"

"You can yell at me all you want, Ann. I ain't opening it."

#

Takemi removes the stethoscope from her ears. "What was that noise?" She asks, turning towards the door.

Yusuke clears his throat. "I believe that was the beating of my heart, yes?"

She shakes her heart. "I know what a heartbeat sounds like, Kitagawa. And that came from down the hall and-"

"Oh!" Yusuke cries, and throws an arm up against his forehead. "I suddenly feel very faint. Please, Doctor, continue your examination. I must be made well!"

Takemi looks back at him, then to the door, then back to Yusuke. She sighs and says, "Fine."

Yusuke nods. _Best of luck, friends. I'll keep her here as long as I can_.

#

They stand silent together.

Akira suddenly finds it important to take inventory of the room's contents. He notates the boxes of empty vials. The felt tips. The plastic wrapped syringes. To the wrong person, this could be a dangerous room.

Ann shoves her back up against one of the few spots along the wall not adorned with shelves and boxes, and slides down until she sits. "Well," she mutters. "This is awesome."

Akira hums in agreement, and his eyes fall to a window in the back of the room. It's your standard, regular window. It's not high off the ground. It's not intricately locked. It's a simple window. "We can get out this way," he says, and walks up to it. Outside is an alley, leading down to one of Yongen-jaya's main throughways. "Come on."

He yanks on the window's latch, and it loosens. Given that this plan was devised by Ryuji and Morgana, he isn't surprised they overlooked a critical detail such as this. That he isn't surprised worries him.

"Wait a second," Ann says. Her voice is hollow and faint.

Akira's hands pause against the windowpane. "What?" He turns back to her.

Her knees are brought up to her chest, and her arms are wrapped around them. She glances towards the door. "This is stupid, but they're not wrong."

Akira opens his mouth, and closes it before any words get out.

"I've been wanting to do this, for a while. But I haven't... I haven't figured out how..."

Akira sucks in as much air as he can, and lets it out in a long, loud breath. "Ann, we don't have to do this." He knows it's a lie, but for now, he doesn't care.

Ann glares up at him, some of Carmen's fire behind her eyes. " _Yes we do_."

She looks very small, seated there, but Akira knows all about how looks can deceive. He steps back from the window, and sits cross-legged on the floor across from her. He turns his hands over until his palms face the ceiling and says, "Makoto."

She nods. "Yeah." The silence stretches once more. Now that it's out there, the air feels heavier for it. "It feels like forever ago."

Akira isn't sure which 'it' she refers to, but he can't bring himself to agree. The rush to the hospital. Ann's ultimatum. The lie that felt like a knife in his ribs.

"She still suspects us," Akira says, dragging the words out. "She still thinks we're the Phantom Thieves." He is about to say, 'Your lie didn't work,' but it's his lie too, so he says, "She went to Iwai's shop not too long ago, asking after me."

Ann frowns. "So we didn't fool her?"

Akira shrugs and shakes his head.

"How long have you known about this?" She asks.

"A while."

"And you didn't say anything?" There's no accusation in her voice. Just exhaustion, and a hint of hurt.

Akira nods. "I didn't." He doesn't say he's sorry.

"If Niijima's still investigating us, it affects me. Right?"

"Yeah."

She speaks slowly, as if choosing her words with care. "So, how is you keeping this a secret from me, any different from when I kept Yusuke's identity a secret from you?"

Lightning flashes through Akira's mind. He wants to say that this is completely different, but he can't get the words out.

Ann is wrong.

But she's wrong about the wrong thing.

Because, as Akira runs over the two situations in his head, he realizes that what he's done is _worse_.

Ann kept Yusuke's identity a secret, but ultimately it only inconvenienced Akira at the time.

Akira keeping Makoto's investigation a secret exposes them to a larger amount of danger.

And he kept it quiet from Ann, because he was mad at her.

He was mad at her.

Akira pushes himself to his feet with a tired groan.

"What're you doing?" Ann asks.

Akira walks to the window, sets his hands on the pane, and pushes it up. A pulse of air fills the room, mixed with the typical smells of Yongen-jaya's alleyways.

"Are you leaving?" There's something desperate in Ann's voice now.

Akira turns to her and beckons her forward. "No, we both are. We're not doing this here. Not in some storage closet our friends locked us in. Let's get some coffee."

Ann stares like she doesn't understand, then a small smile lights her face. She stands, takes his hand, and he helps her out the window.

#

Morgana and Ryuji both press their ears against the door.

"I don't hear them," Morgana whispers.

"Me neither.”

"You think they're still in there?"

"Of course, where else would they be?"

"Then why are they so quiet?"

Ryuji glares down at him. "How should I know?"

Morgana's eyes widen. "What if... no!"

"What?"

"What if they're... doing stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"Stuff, stuff."

Ryuji rubs his eyes with his fingers. "Dude, start makin' sense. What stuff are you-"

"What if they're making out, Bonehead?" Morgana hisses.

Ryuji's eyes widen. "Wh-what? No way! Don't be an idiot! They aren't... they're not like that!"

Morgana stares at the door as if it terrified him. "What if we misread the situation? What if we've misjudged!"

Ryuji reaches down and snatches the cat off the ground, who howls in protest. "Listen," he growls. "You better quit it with all that 'Akira and Ann making out' bullshit. I'm tellin' you, they're not like that. You're panicking, and you're making me panic, so chill the hell out!"

He lets Morgana drop to the floor, then presses his ear back to the door. _Okay, but seriously, what's going on?_

#

LeBlanc is empty, save for Sojiro, evidenced by the clatter he makes in the kitchen.

Akira and Ann sit in one of the booths, across from one another. Each has a cup of coffee set before them. The walk was short, and Akira had spent it psyching himself up. "I'm sorry," he finally says. He takes up his cup, and starts to lift it to his ace, then sets it back with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Ann." He looks over at her. "I hate this."

"The coffee?" She asks.

He rolls his eyes. "No, the fi-" Then he sees the small smile on her face. "Very funny."

"I hate it too, Akira," she replies. "Sometimes I'm so mad at you I want to scream and strange you. Other times I just want you to do something silly or say something weird so I can laugh like I used to." Her giggles lasts little more than a second. "It's crazy. I've only known you for, like, two months, but it feels like forever."

"Given what we've been through," Akira replies. "That's understandable." He stares down at the coffee. "I'm sorry for what happened with Shiho. That's my fault." Ann opens her mouth, but Akira keeps talking. "I could've been honest. With Makoto. With you. I wasn't. And it just kept getting harder and it kept snowballing."

"She _was_ investigating us," Ann says.

Akira shakes his head. "I know you're probably going to get mad at me for this, but Makoto's not a bad person. She isn't." He remembers Lala-chan's words. "If I'd been honest with her from the start, we could've avoided all this."

Ann frowns. "What about the file?"

"I know. I know. But we never did learn the context for it. We both know Kobayakawa was a piece of shit who knew about Kamoshida. Maybe he made Makoto do it. It's dangerous to assume things. I know that. But I think she would've helped us." He doesn’t say that after everything they’ve put her through, after everything _he’s_ put her through, that he can’t be sure of what her intentions are now.

Ann takes a sip of her coffee. "When all that stuff at the hospital went down, I was so mad." Her eyes narrow. "No, that's wrong. I was scared. Terrified. All I could think of was Shiho stepping off that roof. I was afraid she'd get out of bed and go to the hospital's roof and try again." The index finger of her left hands taps the ceramic mug in a slow rhythm. "I know because of everything you've gone through with Makoto, you like her." Akira moves to speak, but Ann shoots him a look. "Just let me talk. You've studied with her. You've talked with her. You've flirted with her." Ann shrugs. "Honestly, I'd say it's pretty clear that she likes you too. That's _your_ Makoto Niijima.

“But I've known Makoto since starting Shujin. And in all that time, before you showed up, we never said more than two words to one another. She was always so... aloof? I think that's the right word. Yeah, aloof. And proper and quiet and a good little student council member." Ann's fingers tighten on the cup. "When I got bullied because of my looks, she didn't do anything. When Kamoshida showed up and started throwing his weight around, she didn't do anything. When Shiho jumped? She just _stood there_ , and didn't do anything." She looks up at him. "So, I'm sorry, Akira. But from where I'm standing, Makoto Niijima isn't some magical, incredibly awesome, beautiful girl who can do no wrong. She's just... Makoto Niijima. For crying out loud, she punched you in the face after, like, a week! And after all that, you expect me to take your word that she's some kind of great person?"

Akira frowns. It takes him a moment to realize he's rubbing his jaw.

"I don't have many friends," Ann continues. "You know that. Until you guys, Shiho was my only friend. My only real friend. Think of it like this, and I know it's a shitty thing to say, but just deal, okay? Imagine if Ryuji or Morgana had been seriously hurt and traumatized. Hell, imagine if it had been Makoto."

Akira remembers the red thoughts when Kamoshida had entered the library. He remembers the animal panic. The hate. The acid in his chest. The words bleating in his skull like klaxon alarms. _Have to stop him. Have to stop him. Have to stop him._

“Now, imagine that when they’re trying to heal, someone else, who has no business doing it, bursts into their hospital room and makes them relive the bullshit all over again.”

And he tries. He tries to picture what it would've been like, how it would've felt, to learn that that had happened to Makoto.

And then it snaps into place.

And he gets it.

He looks up at her. "I would've killed them." It's not puffing himself up. It's not alpha male preening. It's truth. "Not just for her. If it had been Ryuji. Or Yusuke. Or Morgana." He feels something sink in his chest. "Or you."

Ann's lips curl, and she reaches a hand away from her cup, and wraps it around one of Akira's. "Shiho's my Morgana, Akira."

He cannot help himself. "She's your cat?"

She pulls her hand back, and stands. She leans across the table and smacks him on the top of his head. "You ass," she says, but her face is brighter than he's seen it in ages.

Something shifts in him, and he laughs. Then, Ann does too.

"Can I ask you something?" She asks, after they've both calmed down.

He nods. "Sure."

"That first night with Yusuke. When you were so set on taking him to the atelier."

Akira feels a familiar crawling sensation in his guts. He doesn't want to talk about this. This is ugly. But if there's a time for it, it's now. "Yeah?"

"You did it because of me, right?"

Akira doesn't answer right away. What can he say? That mere days after Ann's threat to leave the Phantom Thieves, Akira had seen an opportunity to increase their ranks? That he had gambled on Yusuke awakening a Persona, and with him on board, Ann's departure could be hedged against? That he had put Yusuke in danger, to gain a potential replacement for her?

"Yeah."

She nods. "I figured. You're always so anal about security. That's why I thought it was so weird that you would bring him along. It kinda felt like you baited him." She shrugs. "And Yusuke would be grateful for being shown the truth. Ryuji would be on your side. Morgana, when push comes to shove, would side with you too. I'd have been left out in the cold."

Akira feels his cheeks redden. "That was... I mean, that was the general idea, sure. But I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want you to leave, I just thought if you did, and we had Yusuke, we'd be okay."

"And the obstacle between you and Makoto would be gone, right?"

Akira sighs. "You're wrong about the others, you know. Ryuji can be a complete... well, you know. But he'd never betray you."

"Even if it meant going against you?"

Akira can't stop the smile. "Well, if that did happen, he'd probably just lock us in another storage closet until we got past it."

Ann barks a laugh. "I can't believe that was the best idea they could come up with."

"See, this is why they need us. Both of us. I'm sorry, Ann. I'm sorry for the lies. I'm sorry for being an asshole. I'm sorry for the past few weeks. I fucking hate this."

Ann lets out a long breath. "I know. I'm sorry too."

Akira rubs his temples with his fingers. "I don't know what I'm doing, Ann. I'm trying to really hard to make this all work, but it feels like whenever I figure something out, two more crazy issues pop up."

"Akira, you don't have to figure it all out. You've got us too. We can help. Run things by us. Maybe we won't be able to help much. I don't think any of us are as clever as you. But, sometimes you miss things. You focus on one group of things, and forget about others."

Akira remembers the strange, nightmare image of his father saying as much. "I know." He looks at her. "No more lies, Ann. Not to you. Not to them." He swallows, and she stares at him, expectant. When he opens his mouth, his throat is dry. "You want to know about my father."

"I-" Ann starts to shake her head, then stops herself. "Yes. I do."

He nods. "Okay." He drums his fingers on the table, trying to figure out where to start. "Please understand that it isn't because I wanted to hide anything from you. I just... strongly dislike him." He looks at her, trying to convey why this meant he couldn't speak of him. "But people love him. They adore him. But he's awful. My father never hit me, or touched me, or any of that gross stuff. He never did what Kamoshida did to Shiho, but I guess it's in the same vein. So, please get it. When I can't talk about my father, it's not because I don't want to. It's because whenever I do, it feels like someone is filling my chest with battery acid." His mouth works in a few soundless circuits. "I don't want to lie. It's just what I snap to whenever he's brought up. I gave you segments, because telling it all is hard."

Ann blinks and looks away. "I-"

"I didn't lie," Akira says. "He made my mom fall in love with him. He got her pregnant, but never married her. The way she used to tell it, for a while, the thought of being a dad excited him. He was going to settle down and we would be a family. And then she went into labor. And then he wasn't there. The day after I was born, she found a note in her hospital room. Know what it said?"

Ann shakes her head.

Akira feels his lips curl into a snarl. "It said, _'I'm sorry. I can't do this._ ' That's it. That's all my father had to say to the mother of his child. That's all he had to say to _me_."

"Akira," Ann says, but Akira presses on.

"I've met him. He' pops up once every few years. Says he wants a relationship. Wants to teach me things. It usually ends up with my telling him off." He feels some of the vitriol leave him. "The last time I saw him was… well, he’s out there. He always is. I never know when he'll show up. It's almost a relief to see him, because then I know I won't see him again for a while. I-" He starts, and then the words dry up. "I'm sorry. Can I stop?"

Ann's hands return to his. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, Akira. I'm sorry. I never meant to bring that up. I just thought it was-"

"You thought it was strange. You thought I was lying." He smiles at her, and feels his own fingers curl around hers. "I was." He has never articulated this to anyone. He's said it into the air and over the hiss of a shower. But never to another soul. Not his friends here. Not his false friends where he used to live. He looks at Ann Takamaki then. Really looks at her. Then, he feels his cheeks flush once more. Because in that moment, he realizes that had things gone differently, if an entirely separate series of circumstances had unfolded since his coming to Tokyo, Ann Takamaki could have occupied the place in him that Makoto Niijima now resides.

He squeezes her hand tighter. "I'm sorry, Ann."

Ann stands up, moves around, and sits down next to him in the booth. She rests her head on his shoulder, and Akira lets her, and she says, "Me too, Akira. I'm sorry too."

Akira's voice is tentative, but he doesn't bother to do anything about it. "Can we be friends again?"

She nods, an awkward sensation against his shoulder. "Yeah."

They sit together then, in the silence save for Sojiro's noise-making. It continues for a time, until the older man pokes his head out the kitchen, spies them sitting there, and says, "If you two are going to make out, do it somewhere else."

#

Ryuji and Morgana sit with their backs to the door. "The Doc sure is taking a long time to examine Yusuke," Ryuji mutters, and pulls out his phone to check the time. "It's been like, a freakin' hour."

"She's a professional," Morgana replies. "She's probably making sure. And you know how he was malnourished. Maybe there's extra precautions." He rolls his head back towards the door. "I seriously don't think they're in there anymore."

"Then where could they have gone?" Ryuji asks.

"We're right here." Ryuji and Morgana snap their heads towards the sound. Akira and Ann stand in the hallway, smirks on both their faces.

Ann has her elbow resting on Akira's shoulder. "Have you guys been there the whole time?"

Ryuji stands, eyes wide. "What? How?"

"Dude," Akira says. "We went out the window."

"The window?" Ryuji spins to the door, and unlocks it. His mouth gapes.

"I told you, Bonehead!" Morgana shouts.

"When?" Ryuji asks.

"We left like, forty-five minutes ago," Ann says, then laughs. "Did you honestly think we were still in there?"

Ryuji's face flushes. "Well, uh-"

"I didn't," Morgana replies. "But this one here didn't believe me."

"Traitor," Ryuji spits. "And you thought they were making out."

Morgana's jaw drops. "Why would you tell them that?"

Akira and Ann glance at one another, then both throw back their heads and laugh.

Morgana and Ryuji frown. "Hold up," Ryuji says. "You two are friends again?"

When Akira can, he says, "Yeah.”

Ann nods. "Yep."

Ryuji turns to Morgana. "That means it worked, dude!" He holds out his hand, palm open. "We did it!"

Morgana stares at the hand, then rolls his eyes. He leaps off the ground, and smacks his paw into Ryuji's palm. Once he lands, he mutters, "I can't believe that worked."

"So," Akira says. "Was the whole, 'let's take care of Yusuke' just a trick?"

Ryuji rubs the back of his head. "Well, no. I figured it'd be better if we all came, but he was in on it."

A throat clears behind them. Akira turns to find a sufficiently pissed off looking Tae Takemi standing in the hall, and a docile looking Yusuke alongside her.

"Hi," Akira says.

"Apologies, friends," Yusuke mutters. ""I was forced to admit my involvement. The plan is exposed."

"This place," Takemi growls. "Is _not_ a teenage summer camp, where relationships are made and repaired. It is a clinic. A place for healing. A place for me to diagnose what's wrong with sick people." She takes a step closer to Akira. "And _shame_ on you, for using your friend's condition as an excuse to set this all up."

Akira lifts his hands in defense, palms out. "Hey, wait! It wasn't my idea."

"True," Yusuke puts in. "The fault must lie with myself and Ryuji. Primarily, Ryuji."

"Dude!" Ryuji shouts, eyes wide.

"Um," Ann puts in, raising her hand. "Is Yusuke, okay?"

Takemi frowns. "That's between myself and my patient. If he wants to tell you, there's nothing I can do to stop him."

Yusuke nods towards Ann. "Thank you for inquiring. I have low triglycerides, which I must remedy. Some vitamin deficiencies too."

Akira pales. "So, you're not okay?"

"On the contrary," Yusuke replies, shaking his head. "I'm much better than when last I was here. Doctor Takemi suggested a varying of my diet, and frequent checkups."

Ann's eyes brighten. "Oh, you need to vary your diet? That's great. There's this new crepes place I've been meaning to try and-"

"No," Takemi says. "No crepes. Nutritional value. Say it with me."

No one does.

Takemi scowls. "Does it look like I'm joking? Say it! Nutritional value."

The Phantom Thieves all glance at one another, and stammer out, "Nutritional value."

"Fine," Takemi says, and waves her hand towards the exit. "Now get going. I've got other work to do than dealing with you lot." When Akira turns towards the door, she holds up a hand. "Not you."

"Not me?" Akira asks, and swallows.

Takemi smiles. "Not you. The next iteration of my medicine is ready. And since you're already here..."

Akira sighs, and looks over at his friends. "I'll see you guys later."

#

"I trust," the woman says. "That this won't happen again?"

Rin's father nods. "Of course, Niijima-san. Please, you and yours at the SID need not trouble yourselves."

She stands. "I'll take my leave then." Her eyes flash across the table and land on Rin's. He feels his throat constrict at the looks she gives him, and the shame infuriates him.

He stands along with his father. They go through the proper motions, until the woman is gone.

Rin Sugimura sits down as his father does. The old man doesn't look at him. He just keeps staring at the door Sae Niijima has just left. "How many times?" He asks.

"Sir?" Rin asks.

"How many times do I have to tell you to keep yourself in check?"

"I didn't know she was the sister of-"

"That's not the point." His father's voice is quiet, but it silences his. "The point is that your little activities have landed me on the radar of the SID, which is a place I do not wish to be."

Rin shakes his head. "What do we care about them? We've our protections and-"

"Protections can be lifted. They can go away. If we become a liability." He finally looks over at Rin. "I do not wish to become a liability. And you do not wish to make me a liability."

Rin scowls. "How was I supposed to know Haru had-"

"What? Friends? She's the daughter of a rich man. Powerful people come with powerful friends."

Rin narrows his eyes. "I thought you said Okumura was a jumped-up peasant who didn't know his place?"

"That doesn't mean he isn't powerful. He thinks he'll gain political clout by joining with us. He doesn't foresee that we're using him as much as he's using us. Or maybe he does and doesn't care." His father shakes his head. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with. The point I am trying to make, son, is that you need to keep your proclivities private. I don't care what you do to the Okumura girl, so long as she's able to marry at the appropriate time. But keep it out of the spotlight."

Rin wilts beneath his father's gaze. Under the table, his hands curl into fists. If that bitch Haru hadn't made such a scene, none of this would've been necessary. He'll be sure to remind her of that when next he sees her.

#

Akira sits on his bed, his phone in his hand.

Takemi’s latest batch had tasted like cinnamon on his tongue, and gone down his throat like sludge. It roiled in his stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll get to sleep for a while.

Morgana lays curled in his little spot, either napping or down for the night permanently. The cat had – once it was just the two of them – wanted Akira to understand that ‘Operation Repair the Rift’ had mostly been his idea, and really, Ryuji had just tagged along.

Akira gave all his assurances.

He thinks about Ann, and the things he had told her. If he’s honest with himself, and he is, he feels lighter. All that feel good talk people always use, about weights lifting off chests, it felt true.

And yet.

And yet, even as he’d told her the truth. Even as he’d said, “No more lies,” he’d kept things back. It wasn’t that he still bore a grudge against Ann. That had faded as their conversation progressed. But some part of him, some animal or instinctual part of him, had clammed up even as he spoke more about his father than he ever had before.

His mind races, but it’s nothing but noise. A white blaring.

He looks down at the phone. At the message he’d typed out.

**_AKIRA:_** _I want to talk to you._

His thumb hovers over the ‘Send’ button. He could do this, couldn’t he? Hell, he could call her right now. This whole time, and she’d only been a button-press away. He could talk with her about everything. He could tell her the truth. Every bit of it.

And maybe, if he was very lucky, Makoto would listen, and she’d believe him, and she’d tell him her truth. That the investigation was all a big misunderstanding, that she didn’t oppose the Phantom Thieves, that – if he wanted – they could continue their study sessions in the library.

He glances over at Morgana. The cat’s chest rises and falls in steady rhythm.

His father’s voice cuts through the noise. _But you’ve never been lucky, have you?_

“Dammit,” he whispers. He deletes the message, and sets his phone back up on the windowsill.

Because there was a chance.

A chance she wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t believe him. That her truth wasn’t a good one. That the investigation was just what it sounded like, that she did oppose the Phantom Thieves.

A chance they’d take him away again. Put him away again. Back into a box.

Another box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes Crimson's longest chapter. Thank you very much for reading.


	62. Another Long Day: Crossed Streams

Akira blinks through the sudden haze. His head is degrees heavier than it was a moment ago. A groan escapes him in the form of a whimper, and he buries his face in his hands, hoping the black inside his palms will offer respite.

His throat hurts from talking, and he knows he has so much more to say.

"Kurusu."

"A minute," he mutters.

"Kurusu," Sae snaps.

"Just... give me one minute."

He doesn't need to look to know Sae is checking her watch. He hears the soft rustle of her sleeve as she shoots her cuff. "We don't have that kind of time."

"Right," he says, and leans back in his chair. The movement makes him dizzy.

"Stay with me," she says.

_Stay with me_. He's heard these words before.

A smile writes itself across his face. "I'm right here."

Behind the fog in his mind, he can see the look Sae gives him. It is a look only Sae can give - Makoto's is somewhat less apocalyptic - but there is something softer in it. Something sad. And then, something very angry. He knows what's coming.

"For now, let's say I believe that the Phantom Thieves had nothing to do with Madarame's murder."

"We didn't," Akira whispers.

"And given Principal Kobayakawa's death-"

"That wasn't us either."

Sae glares over at him. "Let's move on." She flips open the manila file and withdraws another picture. Even now, seeing him makes Akira flinch.

"Let's talk about-"

"No," he cuts in.

"Excuse me?" Sae asks, her voice an ice wind.

He drags his eyes away from the photo, and up to hers. "I know what you think, and I know why you think it. But he's not who we hit next. There was another."

Sae blinks. "Are you admitting that the Phantom Thieves targeted another individual that the authorities know nothing about?"

Akira hunches over the table. The words dance in his skull.

_You have to tell her everything. All of it. Because if you do, I know she'll believe you._

Akira looks up at Sae. "Yes.”

Sae frowns. "And their name?"

Akira tells her.

Her eyes widen. "That's... surprising."

Akira lets out a breath, and says, "The whole thing started with my - admittedly - really, _really_ dumb plan."

 

 

6/5

 

"This is a really, _really_ dumb plan," Morgana says.

Akira glares down through the grate at him. "Yeah, well, I already bought the carrier, so we're doing it." He jostles the thing in his hand, probably a little more than he needs to, and says, "Let's go over it once more."

"This isn't quantum physics. I've got it."

Akira stops walking. "How do you know what quantum physics is?"

Morgana rolls his eyes. "Hey, maybe you don't pay attention in class, but I try to, at least."

"Bullshit," Akira says, shaking his head. "When I bring you to class you just nap in my desk all day. And we've never talked about quantum physics at school." He purses his lips. "I mean, I don't think we have." He shakes his head. "We're getting off topic. Isn't making sure we're on the same page the most basic of basics?"

Morgana groans. "Fine. Haru's going to take me to her house. I'm going to spy on her, and when I get a chance, read any texts she's exchanged with Makoto. And," he says as he pats the carrier's false bottom, "we've got Yusuke's fully charged phone in here. I can use it to record any relevant conversations, and take photos if I need to."

"Only take pictures if they pertain to our investigation," Akira reminds him. "Not of random stuff."

"So, if Makoto shows up in a skin-tight ninja outfit, you _don't_ want me to take a photo?"

Akira blinks and thinks this over. "It'd be suspicious if she did that. So, in that case, you probably should take a photo and-"

"Oh my god," Morgana mumbles, and bangs his head against the carrier's plastic wall. "Now who can't focus? Seriously. You're sure the hack-track worked?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I had Ohya show me how to do it the last time I was with her. We're tracking Yusuke's phone, no problem. And we're not calling it hack-track."

"Why not? It's a cool name."

"It doesn't need a name, it's just 'tracking Yusuke's phone.'"

"Fine. Whatever."

Akira glances back down at him. "I'd think you'd be a bit more enthused about us tracking your position. It's for your safety after all."

"Oh, sure. It's not like you guys are a SWAT team. If something does go wrong, you're not gonna rappel down any buildings and bust through windows."

Akira rolls his eyes, but doesn't reply. Morgana had a point, but it wasn't as if Haru's house would be dangerous.

He crosses the street and heads towards the cafe. It's a place he hasn't been before, but one Haru apparently frequents. She'd requested it for the drop-off when they'd spoken last.

Before he can reach the entrance, the front door flies open and Haru steps out, a bright grin on her face. "Hi, Mona-chan!" She calls to the carrier, then gasps. "Oh my! That carrier is _lovely_."

Morgana glances up at Akira through the grate. "Told you," he whispers.

Akira smothers the frown on his face and says, "How's it going, Haru?"

She fixes him with a neutral gaze. "Well, thank you for asking. And you?"

"I'm g-"

"Glad to hear it," she cuts in. "So, should I bring Morgana to the shop on Tuesday?"

Akira shrugs. "I mean, you could bring him to school tomorrow too. I keep him in my bag."

"But what would you do with this large carrier?" She asks.

Akira frowns. "Good point. Alright. Tuesday, then." He'd planned on this. Giving Morgana extra time with Haru meant more time to possibly discover Makoto's plans. "He's all yours." He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a list of instructions. “This is the stuff he likes to eat. I also wrote down when he likes to nap. And it’s okay to let him outside, if he wants to go.”

Haru takes the note, and stuff it into her pocket. Then, she takes the carrier, and holds it gingerly before her. She peers into the cage and says, "We're going to have such fun, Mona-chan!"

Akira leans in and says, "Hope you have a good time, Mona-chan."

Morgana glares up at him. "No stupid hats."

#

Akira races back to Ryuji's. His friend's mom answers the door. "Akira-kun! Welcome!"

"Hey, Miss Sakamoto," he manages, doing his best to keep his breath under control. "May I come in?"

"Of course," she says, and takes a step back. A smell wafts out from behind her, and it tantalizes Akira's nose. It smells hot and spicy, but very different from the aroma that typically fills LeBlanc.

Ryuji's mom smiles at whatever look crosses his face. "I'm making Ryu-kun's favorite. It'll be ready in a few hours. You should join us."

"Sounds great," he says, as he moves past her. He removes his shoes and bows. "Thanks for having me."

"They're up in Ryu-kun's room."

Akira glides through the house, heading for the stairs. Given Ryuji's _robust_ personality, the house is quaint by comparison. Eggshell white walls. Framed photos of Ryuji as a child - perfect blackmail material - and comfortable looking furniture, if a bit threadbare.

He climbs the steps to the second floor. He finds Ryuji's room easily enough. It's the door with the 'BIOHAZARD WARNING' poster unevenly taped across the wood, and knocks.

"Akira?" Comes his voice.

"Yeah."

"C'mon in."

Akira opens the door and steps inside. The walls are decorated in an assortment of posters, between rock bands, people dashing across finish lines, and sports apparel logos. There's no apparent logic to their placement. Rather, they all seem to be competing for space.

The room is otherwise sparse, save for a pile of clothes shoved into the far corner. Akira finds it all too easy to picture them scattered across the floor a mere hour ago.

Ann sits on his bed, flipping through a magazine. She smiles at Akira when he walks in.

Ryuji sits in a black and red gamer's chair next to her, phone up to his face. "Yo," he says, when Akira shuts the door. "I gotta get a new phone. This screen is all scratched up. That's what I get for keeping my keys in the same pocket."

Akira and Ann share a look. Morgana's use of Ryuji's phone is something that still escapes the blonde boy. "You know," Akira says, eyeing the two of them. "It's pretty cool of your Mom to let you hang here with Ann, all by yourself. With the door closed."

Ann's cheeks redden as she glares up at him, even as her lips smile. Ryuji's eyes never leave his phone. "Nah. She knows Ann's more like a sister than anything."

Ann's magazine sails through the brief span of air between them, and slams into the side of his head. "Ow," he yells, rubbing the spot, and turning to face her. "What the hell?"

"Jerk," she hisses, and crosses her arms.

"Okay, okay," Akira says, and pats the air. "How's Morgana doing?"

Ryuji casts one last glance back at Ann, then returns to his phone's screen. "I dunno. So far so good, I guess? I've got no idea where Haru lives. Looks like she's heading through Aoyoma-Itchome."

Ann frowns. "That's weird. You'd think an heiress like her would live in a ritzy neighborhood."

Akira and Ryuji both say, "Heiress?"

She looks at Ryuji, then Akira, face blank. "Yeah. Haru Okumura."

Akira looks at Ryuji, who shrugs.

Ann's mouth drops open. "You're joking. You're seriously joking."

"About what?" Akira asks.

"Yeah, spit it out, Ann," Ryuji replies.

Ann drops her head into her hands. "Oh my god, you guys are hopeless! Haru _Okumura_ , as in _Okumura Foods_ , as in the company that owns Big Bang Burger? Her father's the CEO."

Akira cracks a grin. "No way."

"Yes, way!" Ann says. "You've worked in the same flower shop all these weeks, and you didn’t know that?"

Akira clears his throat, and casts his mind back. "Now that you mention it, she did seem a little put off when I first showed up."

_I'm Haru Okumura._

_I'm Akira Kurusu._

_Yes, I know. But I'm Haru_ Okumura _._

_Oh. You don't know._

He frowns. "I never did ask her what she meant. But wait, if she's rich, why was she working part-time in a flower shop?"

Ann shakes her head. "I don't know. Why do rich people do anything? And you," she says, spinning to Ryuji. "How'd you not know about this? Everyone made a huge deal about it last year when she transferred in."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Uh, in case you forgot, I kinda sorta had my hands full with the whole Kamoshida thing."

Ann looks between the two of them. "So neither of you knew that Haru Okumura was the daughter of a rich CEO?"

Both boys shake their heads.

Ann sits back down with a huff. "You two better count your blessings I didn't leave."

Ryuji groans, but Akira bows. "Thank you for not leaving."

Ann smiles. " _You_ should be glad I already threw my magazine at Ryuji."

"But like, what's the big deal?" Ryuji asks. "Haru's some rich girl. So what? Now Morgana will be lounging at a mansion instead of in Akira's attic. Sounds like a sweet deal to me."

Akira thinks this through. "I guess that's true. But Ann's right. Why are they heading through Aoyoma-Itchome?"

"Also," Ann asks, raising her hand. "There's something else I wanted to ask. Are we sure this is a good plan?"

Akira looks at her. "It's a little late to have doubts now."

She frowns. "Well, you didn't exactly fill me in on all the details until today."

Akira nods. "Point. Okay, look. I know, on the surface it seems kind of silly. But, if Makoto is still investigating us, and let's be real here, she definitely still is, then Haru's weakness for 'Mona-chan,' is our best bet to figuring out what that is. There's no direct involvement with Makoto. Morgana's objective is to scour Haru’s texts and listen in on any phone calls she makes. Maybe Makoto will let something slip. At the least, we may learn about her plans for the upcoming week, and we can tailor our movements around them so we don't cross paths with her."

Ann frowns. "I guess."

"It's a long shot, I know," Akira says. "But it’s the best plan I can think of to eliminate the danger Makoto poses to us, for good. If there really are others who can use the Metaverse, we want to minimize our exposure as much as we can. But if this doesn't work, it doesn't work and we're no worse off than we were before. Plus, we've already started investigating our next Mementos targets, so as long as we keep pursuing those, we won't lose any real time."

"Uh, guys?" Ryuji mutters, eyes narrowing.

"What's up?" Akira asks.

"This is getting a little weird. Weirder, I guess."

Ann stands and leans over his shoulder. "What?"

Ryuji lifts the screen so she can see. Akira moves over behind him so he can take a look as well. "I might be lookin' at this map wrong," Ryuji says. "But doesn't it look like Haru's heading for Shujin?"

#

Morgana yawns and stares at his paw. _To think that I, a thief of the highest caliber, would be reduced to being carted around like this._

Granted, Akira carries him around in his bag almost every day, but that was different. Morgana - in that context - was a partner in crime, a source of information and a potential spy if the need arose.

And yes, he _knew_ that technically, this job involved those same roles. Still, it grated to not just pretend to be a cat, but be treated like one as well.

"Almost there, Mona-chan," Haru says, in her high, dainty voice.

"Whatever," Morgana replies, and rolls onto his back. The carrier swishes through the air, but Morgana is used to the abrupt movements of Akira's bag, so this is a cakewalk for him.

Still very much bored, Morgana stares out the grate.

He stiffens. _Wait a second_.

Shujin Academy waits at the end of a familiar road. "What are we doing here?" He asks, then remembers Haru can't understand him.

_Relax. Think_. It was Sunday. Shujin wasn't closed because clubs still operated on Sundays. But was Haru a member of any clubs? He can't remember her ever mentioning any. To the best of his knowledge, Haru didn't have any friends in clubs either. The only confirmed confidant for Haru Okumura was Makoto Niijima.

Haru turns towards the steps, and begins to take them two at a time. Morgana peers up at her, and sees her texting with one hand, a small smile on her face. _What's going on?_

Did Haru have a boyfriend? Were they perhaps taking a detour so she could enjoy some quality time with a hunk on a sports team?

Haru enters Shujin and walks the length of the hall to the stairwell. _The clubs meet in the other building. Why's she going upstairs? Think_.

Haru was a third year, which meant her classroom was on the ground floor. There were a few offices on the second floor, but would Haru really meet up with a teacher - with a cat - on Sunday? The third floor held the library, and the student council room, but why would she be going there?

Morgana's eyes widen. _Wait_.

Haru ascends to the top floor, and exits the stairwell.

She strides down the length of the hall, and passes the library.

_Waitwaitwait_.

Haru knocks on the door to the Student Council Room. Then, she knocks again.

A moment later, two knocks sound from the inside.

_Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwa-_

Haru pauses, then knocks once more.

The door opens.

Makoto Niijima stands there, a grim look on her face.

"Are we prepared?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods. "Of course. Let’s get to the bottom of this, once and for all." She peers down at Morgana. "It's nice to meet you, Mona-chan. Or maybe I should say, it's good to see you again."

#

"Okay," Ryuji says. "So, like, Haru doesn't live at the school, right?"

"Of course she doesn't," Ann replies, and swats him on the shoulder.

"Then what's she doing there?" Ryuji growls.

Akira peers at the screen. The phone's location is hovering more or less still somewhere in the classroom building. "We can't get any more details? Like, what floor they're on or something?"

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Bro, look around. This isn’t the freakin' Pentagon."

Akira frowns. _Why would she be heading to Shujin?_ The school had been open all day. If she'd had to do something there, she could've done it before picking up Morgana. _Unless she's doing something she couldn't until after retrieving Morgana._

His eyes widen. "Oh no."

#

Haru shuts the door behind them. Locks it.

_Simple door lock_ , Morgana thinks. _Grab the handle and pull, it'll unlock on its own._

His eyes drink in all they can. He spies the words written across the marker board. 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic.'

_This..._

Haru sets the carrier on the table.

Beneath the 'operation's' moniker are dozens of pictures. Blurry, distant shots of Akira and the other Phantom Thieves. Underneath, is a large map of Tokyo, with pins marking locations like LeBlanc, Shibuya Station, and others.

_This was..._

"Should we begin?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods. "I'd like to check his collar first. Perhaps there's something there, or evidence of a device previously planted."

Haru unlatches the carrier's grate.

_This was..._

"A _setup!_ " He hisses this last part, and Haru's encroaching hand snaps back.

Morgana darts out of the carrier, and the girls jump back. _Alright. Focus!_

"It's okay, Mona-chan," Haru says, a nervous smile on her face. "This is my friend, Makoto."

Morgana scowls. "Yeah, no shit." He returns his eyes to the board and notices another phrase written near the bottom of the map. 'The Cat is the Key.'

"Akira, you _moron_ ," he mutters. He arches his back and hisses into the air. If the girls think he's dangerous, they may not approach, and it'll buy him a few seconds to learn what he can.

Makoto frowns at him.

_Okay. Maps. Photos. They must've figured out I can communicate with the team somehow_. There was nothing on the board about Yusuke. _They probably don't know about him yet. That's good_. There's information pertaining to Nakanohara and Daisuke. Madarame. Kamoshida. Nothing about their current targets. Precious little about the PhanSite. A copy of Kamoshida's and Madarame's calling cards are taped up on the board. Morgana squints, trying to see if any of the others are present.

"Wait a minute," he hears Makoto say.

The girl's arm suddenly blocks the space of the board Morgana had been staring at.

Morgana hisses and tries to peer around it. She adjusts her arm as his head bobs up and down. "Cut it out," Morgana spits.

"No way," Makoto says.

Morgana's ear perk up.

"What is it?" Haru asks.

Makoto jumps in front of the board and spreads her arms wide. “Haru, quick! Block the board!”

Haru joins Makoto a second later, spreading her arms wide, obscuring a different part of the board from Morgana’s view. “Why, um, are we doing this, Mako-chan?”

“Get out of the way!” Morgana hisses, trying to read what little he can.

Makoto’s eyes are wide. "I don't believe this. He's... he's _reading_."

Morgana blinks. "Ah, crap."

Makoto gasps. "Morgana? Morgana, can you understand me?"

"Screw this," Morgana replies, and turns back towards the carrier. Yusuke's phone is still inside. His mode of conveyance will need to be abandoned, but he can't just leave the phone. With it, it would be easy for them to track down Yusuke.

He rushes back into the carrier, hits the false bottom with his paw, popping it up, and wraps the phone in his tail.

Then, he beelines for the door, and leaps into the air as he hears Haru ask, "Is that a _phone?_ "

Morgana wraps the handle in his paws and lets his body weight pull him down and unlock it. The door clicks, and slowly swings open.

"Don't let him out!" Makoto shouts, but Morgana is already on the floor and sliding through the small space towards freedom.

#

"Hey, check this out!" Ryuji yells, straightening.

"We're already right behind you," Ann replies.

"Whatever." He points at the screen. “Mona's goin' haywire."

The dot representing Yusuke's phone begins to shift within Shujin rapidly. A short burst in a straight line, and then circles.

"Stairs," Akira says, and snaps his fingers. "They're going up or down stairs."

The dot suddenly halts, and a moment later, Akira's burner vibrates. Everyone jumps at the noise. Akira snatches it from his pocket, and his eyes widen. "It's Yusuke's phone."

"His burner?" Ryuji asks.

"No, like his actual phone."

"Oh, crap," Ann says. "Do you think Haru found it?"

Akira shakes his head. "Even if she did, our burner numbers aren't supposed to be saved in the phone's history. We've been deleting the records after every call." He looks up at them. Both blondes are glancing away. "We have, _haven't we?_ "

"Yep!" Ryuji blurts.

"Totally," Ann says.

Akira works his jaw. "Okay then."

"You gonna answer it?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods, presses the receive button and brings the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

A series of screeches beat into his ears, and he jerks away from the phone with a wince.

"What's wrong?" Ann asks.

Akira hits the speaker button. A high pitched sequence of meows and yowls batter the walls in Ryuji's room. Ann curses and covers her ears.

"Is that Morgana?" Ryuji asks.

Ann makes a face. "Why does he sound like that?"

"Morgana?" Akira asks into the phone. "Morgana, we can't understand you. Slow down."

The cat noises slow, but there's no coherent words among them.

Ryuji's eyes widen. "Oh shit, dude! We had the same problem with the app when we were lookin' for Madarame's palace. The phone can't understand him!"

"What?" Ann asks. "That's stupid. _We_ can understand him. Why's it different that we're talking over a phone?"

"But we're not really hearing Morgana, you know? We're hearing how the phone hears Morgana. You never really hear the person on the other end. You're hearing a scramble of code that kind of sounds like them, but it's not really their voice."

Ann's brows rise. "How do you know that?"

Ryuji shrugs. "I watch a lot of TV."

"Clearly."

"Guys," Akira snaps. Both shut up. He tries to think. It sounded like Morgana was in trouble, but he was safe enough to try and communicate. But if they couldn't understand him, how could they help him? "Okay. Morgana, listen up. For whatever reason, we can't understand you over the phone."

Another series of screeches.

"I know, I know! It's bullshit," Akira calls back. "Just calm down. We don't know what's wrong, but we're still tracking you." He looks back at Ryuji's phone. "You're still at Shujin. Alright. Hang up, and text me. Tell us what's going on. We'll figure it out from there."

A short meow, and the call ends.

Ryuji perks up in his seat. “Wait, Mona can text?” He looks back down at his phone. At the scratches. “Hey!”

#

Morgana pauses at the entrance to the alley, and takes up the phone once more. _Stupid Metaverse versus reality rules! None of this makes sense!_ He pulls up Yusuke's messenger app and begins to text Akira.

**_YUSUKE_ ** _: AMBUSH! MAKOTO & HARU 2X TEAM! HELP!_

He sends it. And waits. And waits.

The phone vibrates a few moments later, with a response from Akira’s burner.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Head to Shibuya Station. We'll meet you there._

Morgana rolls his eyes. "Shibuya Station?" He hisses. _I've got to run all the way there? Oh, I am going to have so many words with these idiots when they find me!_

He hears a gasp, and lifts his eyes from the phone.

Makoto and Haru stand a few meters away, eyes wide. Staring at him.

"It's..." Makoto starts. "It's..."

"Texting?" Haru asks.

"Crap," Morgana spits and wraps his tail around the phone and darts off down the alley.

"After him," Makoto calls.

"So many words!" Morgana shouts at the sky.

#

Akira and Ann reach Shibuya Station. The two try not to look as if they're in a hurry, but Akira keeps the phone up to his ear. "Okay, so he should be by the entrance," Ryuji says, from his burner. "I can't tell though."

"By the entrance to the Ginza line?" Akira asks. "Or the statue of Hachiko?"

"Dude, I don't know." Ryuji had wanted to come with them, but Akira had instructed him to remain in his house and give them directions as they went. If Ryuji had been jogging along with them, and tripped and broke his phone, they'd have no clue where Morgana was.

Akira pulls out his burner, checking for another message.

The last had come several minutes ago.

**_YUSUKE_ ** _: PURSUIT! BAD TIMES!_

Ann puts her hands on her legs, breathing heavily. "You know..." she groans out, "we should've taught Morgana how to text properly."

Akira nods. "Teaching the cat how to use Messenger wasn't at the top of my priorities’ list."

"Just... saying," Ann heaves.

They cross the street and join the pulsing crowd. Akira calls his position into the phone, but Ryuji's directions don't change beyond, "He's around there somewhere."

Ann curses and grabs Akira's arm. She drags him around the corner of a series of smoking booths. Akira juggles his phone before getting a good grip on it, and turns to her. "What the hell?" He asks, shaking his arm loose from her grip.

"Look," she says, and points. Akira peers around the corner and follows her fingers. His eyes widen when he sees Makoto and Haru crossing the street, eyes searching between the legs of the pedestrians.

"They're looking for him," Akira says.

"Who?" Ryuji asks, over the phone.

"Makoto and Haru just showed up."

"For real?"

Ann frowns, a few beads of sweat running down her forehead. "I guess we know what, 'Pursuit, bad times,' means now."

_Man. They chased him all the way here from Shujin?_ Just how dedicated were these two? Akira thinks about the short time he's known Makoto Niijima. _Stupid question_.

"Do you guys see Morgana yet?" Ryuji asks.

Akira's burner vibrates. He pulls it out.

**_YUSUKE_ ** _: AT ENTRANCE? WHERE AT U?_

Ann peers at it. "Is he saying he's at the entrance, or is he asking if we're at the entrance?"

"I don't know!" Akira growls, and texts out a response.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: We're by the smoking booths on the surface. Where are you?_

**_YUSUKE_ ** _: AT ENTRANCE DUH_

"Oh my god," Akira says, draws his hand down over his face. "He never gets a phone again."

Akira peers towards the multiple entrances to Shibuya Station.

And then, he sees him.

The cat sits near stairs leading to the Shibuya Underground, his paws covering Yusuke's phone, eyes darting around the crowd. A few people bend down to pet his head, but he hisses up at them before they get to close.

Akira is about to step around the corner, when he turns back to Makoto and Haru.

The latter tugs at Makoto's sleeve and points right at Morgana. She mouths something that looks like, "There," and the two take off running.

Morgana stiffens a moment later, and snatches the phone back up off the ground, and darts down into Shibuya.

The girls follow him a moment later.

"Dammit," Akira shouts. A few pedestrians turn sullen glares his way.

"Now what?" Ann asks.

Akira starts marching towards the entrance. "We need to find him before they do, and we need them to not see us." Akira tries to run it all through his head. "Okay, you take the mall. It won't look out of place if you're shopping. I'll head down by the commuter lines and see if he's there. Ryuji," he says into the phone. "I don't suppose you can give us a hint to his location?"

"Hard to say. But his little dot thing made a circle just now. Looks like he went down some steps."

Akira turns back to Ann. "Text if you see him. Something simple."

Ann nods. "I'll tell you I found a cute outfit near a store I want you to see me in."

Akira feels his face flush red for a moment. "Uh, yeah. That works. I'll say something similar."

"Seriously?" Ann asks, but Akira is already running down the steps.

#

Ann searches for ten minutes, doing her best to keep her heart from hammering out of her chest.

She's spent her time in the shopping mall. She's yet to find a trace of Morgana, and checking her cell every few seconds yields nothing. If the cat was in the area, and he saw her, she was sure he'd come bounding out of his hiding spot and leap into her arms.

_Speaking of, I'm going to have to do something about that pretty soon_. Now that things were better with Akira - present mess excluded - there were other things she needed to focus on. Shiho. The Mementos Requests. Bringing her grades up.

_Ryuji_.

She shakes the thought away. This wasn't the time to be thinking about him or the dumb things that could come out of his mouth.

_A sister? Seriously? A sister?_

Ann raps her own forehead with her knuckles. "Come on," she growls out. She needs to focus. Morgana needs their help. She peers into the next storefront, but sees nothing.

_Wait, the flower shop!_ Morgana knew that place like the back of his paw. It'd be a perfect place to hide. She starts to cut through the crowds, hoping her hunch was right. _Wait, but Haru works there too. What if she thought the same thing?_

Ann turns down the hall with the flower shop, and finds it shuttered and closed. A sign posting the hours appears on the metal link, and she steps up to it, trying to guess if there was some way for Morgana to slip inside.

"Mona?" She whispers into the dark of the shop. "You in there?"

No response.

"Damn." She takes a step back, and pulls out her phone. No message from Akira. She peers to her left, down into the dark hall leading towards a service tunnel. Maybe he'd gone down there?

Ann isn't sure that's the kind of place she should be poking around, and Morgana would know that too, so she turns and starts to head back into the mall proper.

Makoto Niijima comes around the corner.

The girl stops.

Ann feels her eyes widen.

Makoto's narrow.

"Hello, Takamaki."

#

Akira takes the steps two at a time, climbing to the level above the commuter terminal. Morgana hadn't been anywhere below. He'd kept in touch with Ryuji, but the sprawling underground mass of Shibuya had been difficult to navigate, even with his two months of experience.

Akira figured Morgana might've tried to head back to the surface. There were a number of corridors on the upper levels that weren't frequented by commuters. Those were primarily used for maintenance professionals when the station shut down for the night. A few homeless cluttered them, but not many.

He turns the corner into one of them, and is greeted with a, "Finally!"

Morgana scurries across the dirt-streaked linoleum floor and hops up into Akira's arms. "Are you okay?" Akira asks, scratching his head.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Morgana says, with a scowl, as he climbs onto his shoulder. "It was a total set up.”

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." He puts his phone back up to his ear. "Ryuji. I got him. I'm hanging up. We'll get Ann and get out of here."

"Got it," Ryuji replies.

"Did you track me?" Morgana asks, hefting Yusuke's phone once more with his tail.

"Yeah, but when you went downstairs into the station, it got harder to locate you. Ann's in the mall, searching there."

"It's not my fault. Makoto and Haru followed me here."

"Don't worry about that. Let's just smuggle you out of here while we can."

Morgana's eyes widen. He hops back down to the floor and holds up a paw. "Hold on. Let me get this out while it's fresh. It's so much worse that we thought. They've got a whole headquarters set up in the Student Council Room. It's like a full-on police operation."

Akira groans. "Great. Awesome." He takes out his phone. "I'll text Ann. Tell her to meet up on Central."

Morgana trots down the length of the hall.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Found a cool hat. Want your opinion. Meet up at Central?_

"Crap!" Morgana hisses, and darts back into the hall.

Akira looks up. "What's wrong?"

"Haru," Morgana says. "She’s coming this way from down the hall. I think she spotted me."

Akira runs to the only service entrance door and tries the handle. It won't budge. "Shit."

"This is bad," Morgana says. "This is bad."

Akira thinks, and his eyes widen. He stares at the ceiling. At the ground around them. "I've got it," he says, and pulls out his cellphone.

"What're you doing?" Morgana asks.

"Mementos," Akira says, pulling up the app. "We'll wait for a bit until she passes, and then come back out."

Morgana dashes towards him. "Wait-"

It's too late.

The world shifts.

#

Joker sets his phone back in his pocket. "That's weird."

Despite their physical location being at least one level down in Shibuya Station, the actual transportation to Mementos had taken them to a few steps down from the entrance.

He smiles. "Guess it's better than being trapped six levels down." He turns to look at Mona.

The cat is crouched with his paws over his head, a wince on his face. As Akira watches, the cat opens one eye, glances around, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Then, he straightens and glares up at him. "You moron! The layout of Mementos doesn't match the actual layout of Shibuya Station. We could've been trapped super deep. Or in a wall. Or in the floor or something."

Joker shrugs. "Alright, well, my bad. What's the big deal? Aren't your memories buried deeper in Mementos?"

Mona shakes his head. "That’s not the point! I'm _saying_ that you can't just pop into Mementos or Palaces willy-nilly from wherever you feel like. The inside of the Palace doesn't always match the inside of the physical location they're based on. You could've buried us alive! Or we could’ve popped up in the middle of a bunch of super strong Shadows!"

Joker feels some of the blood leave his face. "And you didn't think that was an important bit to mention?"

"I didn't think it'd be relevant. I didn't think you'd try to enter Mementos from a location already _inside_ Mementos!"

Joker blinks. "Wait. What happens if we leave? Are we going to pop out at the entrance?"

Mona lets out a sigh and glances around. "I think we should be okay. We’re right by the entrance. Maybe we’ll exit to reality where we always do, or maybe we’ll exit to where we entered. If we tried to exit Mementos from a few floors down, though? We could enter reality on the train tracks, or buried miles under the earth!"

"That'd be... bad."

"Yeah, it _would_. Don't do something like that again."

Joker crouches down until he's more or less eye level with Mona. "Alright. I'm sorry. But take it easy. No need to panic. It got us away from Haru and-"

"Makoto?" Comes a shaky voice, from outside the entrance.

Mona's eyes widen. Joker feels his own do the same. Together, they creep up the steps until they're just shy of the landing to the outside.

Haru Okumura stands by herself. Her phone is clutched to her ear in both hands. Her eyes are white saucers. "Mako-chan? Are you there?" When no answer evidently comes, she lowers the phone and calls out, "Hello? Is anyone there? Is this, um, a dream?"

Joker looks down at Mona. "Oh, shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that happened.


	63. Another Long Day Pt. 2 - Damage Control II

Yusuke shifts in his seat. A few beads of sweat roll down his neck, and catch in his collar.

_One would think air conditioning a priority in this kind of establishment_.

Given the unoccupied space, it should not be so hot.

The priest continues his chant, his tone more bored than ecclesiastical. Yusuke can hardly blame him.

Madarame's wake is embarrassingly unattended. Yusuke had entered, adorned in a second-hand black suit he'd purchased at a thrift store earlier in the week, complete with a black tie. The shirt's collar does not fit properly. It squeezes around his neck, and he can feel the seed of a headache forming in the center of his skull.

He knows he should not be proud of himself, given the circumstances, but he is. Attending this wake had not been a difficult choice. Even so, he'd kept it a secret from his friends in the Phantom Thieves. One day, he was sure, they would understand.

_Well... perhaps not Ryuji_.

This is something he must do. For all the complications revolving around his relationship with the man, Madarame had raised him. Madarame had cared for him - admittedly in a rather twisted way - and sheltered him (in a series of ramshackle buildings).

The least Yusuke could do was attend his wake. He looks to his left and right. The chairs remain empty.

Madarame's friends in the art world.

His associates.

His fans.

No one had come.

_How quickly they abandoned you, Sensei_.

Yusuke sighs, then worries the noise is too loud and will interrupt the proceedings. But the sutra continues and continues, uninhibited.

Then, it's over.

Yusuke stands and turns towards the exit. He knows, from his vague recollections of his mother's wake and funeral, there tends to be more. But as Madarame had no family, there's nothing left to undertake.

He blinks in surprise.

A young man sits in the back of the room. His eyes stare at the floor behind a pair of glasses. His hair is the conservative cut of an office employee. His dark suit is threadbare and faded from too many washings.

He glances up, meets Yusuke's eyes, and looks away.

Yusuke steps up to him. "Hello.”

The man lets out a long breath, and stands. "Good afternoon."

They lapse into silence. Behind them, the priest grumbles about something just out of earshot.

The man wets his lips. "I only heard the end of the prayer. It seemed... nice."

Yusuke shrugs. "I suppose. Were you an associate of Madarame-sensei's?"

A look crosses the man's face. A flicker of rage that dies into exhaustion. "I was. Some time ago."

Yusuke inclines his head. "I did not expect anyone else to come. My name's Yusuke Kitagawa."

The man blinks in surprise, and a small smile flits across his lips. "It took a long time for me to decide. I'm Natsuhiko Nakanohara."

Yusuke's eyes widen. A part of him wants to reach out and grab the man's hands. It was, after all, this man who put Akira and the others onto the trail of Madarame. Without his direction, Yusuke might still be slaving away in the atelier, beneath Sensei's tutelage.

He suppresses the urge. Akira had spoken with him - at length - about the need for secrecy and anonymity. The fewer people knew about the identities of the Phantom Thieves, the safer they were. Even if the individual knew a great deal already.

But Yusuke knows he has to say _something_. "Were you," he mutters, clears his throat, and continues, "one of Sensei's former apprentices?"

Nakanohara sticks his hands in his pockets. "Yes I was. It's been a few years now." He chuckles without mirth. "A few bad years."

Yusuke doesn't pry. He'd heard enough about Nakanohara's shadow from the others. "If I may ask," he says. "Why did you come today?"

Nakanohara looks beyond him, towards the front of the room. "Madarame's dead. This is what you do when people die, right?"

Yusuke frowns. "And yet, it would appear we are the only two aware of that tradition."

The man's face scrunches up, and he pries his eyes back to the ground. "It's..." He trails off, then scowls. "He was a piece of shit."

Yusuke has grown accustomed to vulgar vocabulary, thanks to Ryuji, but to hear such a phrase uttered in this place feels sacrilegious. He's pretty sure that's what 'sacrilegious' actually means. He is about to open his mouth to protest, when Nakanohara continues. "He threw me out into the street. He stole all my work. He made me _hate_ art. He _starved_ me, and I didn't even realize he was doing it until after.

"Still. I can't help but feel responsible, to a degree, for this." He nods back towards the dais.

"Responsible?" Yusuke asks. "You didn't..." he stumbles over the next word, "kill him."

He shrugs once more. "Maybe." He glances around, as if they weren't the only two in the room. Yusuke notices the priest has stepped out of the room. "But _I_ told the Phantom Thieves about Madarame. They went after him because I asked them to. They made him confess his crimes, and then..." He takes his hands from his pockets and spreads them as if to say, 'You know.' “If I hadn’t sent them after Madarame, he never would’ve confessed. Then, that kid wouldn’t have stabbed him to death.”

Yusuke isn't sure what to say. _Should I feign ignorance?_ Something else? He chooses his next words carefully. "Well, I feel that I should thank you."

Nakanohara frowns. "Thank me?"

He nods. “I don't think I would've had the insight, nor the awareness, to free myself."

Nakanohara's frown doesn't leave his face, but his features soften a bit. "You don't have to thank me, Kitagawa.”

"No. I do." He bows. "I wish it did not end this way, Nakanohara-san, but nevertheless, thank you for helping me."

When he straightens, there's a small smile and blush on the man's face. "Well, I guess, you're welcome."

"And," Yusuke puts in. "It should be noted that I am not alone. All of Madarame's present pupils have been freed from his clutches. And those who have already been cast aside have been vindicated."

Nakanohara's smile fades. He looks back towards the dais once more. "I wonder about that." Yusuke says nothing and waits for him to continue. "When I heard the news the other day, I was happy the Phantom Thieves had succeeded. But, I don't know. I didn't feel _better_ about anything." He sighs. "It just feels like it's convenient for people to believe that Madarame was a bad person, now. But I've been saying it for years. I'm sure others have been saying the same thing, but no one listened then. Now, well, look around." He sweeps his arm across the room. "No one's here but us. No one cares. It just feels like believing Madarame was a good person was the thing to do. And now it's believing that he wasn't a good person." He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, a gesture Yusuke has seen Akira perform numerous times. "I don't know if I'm saying this right. It just feels so over and done. I guess I'm just not satisfied." Yusuke ponders this, but before he can say anything, Nakanohara turns his gaze to him and asks, "Are you?"

And to this, Yusuke can only say one thing. "No. I am not."

#

A series of expressions flicker across Takamaki's face. Shock, fear, anger. Eventually, she settles on what looks like indifference. "I've got nothing to say to you," she declares, and begins to step around her.

Makoto moves to block her. "Wait."

The girl takes a step back, folds her arms across her chest, and frowns. "Look, Niijima-senpai. Jealousy isn't a good look for you, yeah? It's not my fault you can't handle the fact that Akira and I..."

Makoto tunes her out, she just stares at her, eyes locked.

_You're_ not _dating Akira Kurusu,_ Makoto says in her mind. _You're a Phantom Thief. You're here, sweating, because you're looking for Morgana. The cat knows Rafflesia because Akira brings him here, so you figured he might be hiding here. That text the cat sent must've been either to you or Akira. Which leads me to believe Akira's in this station right now, searching for the cat as well._

"Well?" Takamaki asks, as if expecting an answer.

Makoto takes another step forward, and Takamaki takes one back, scowling when she does so.

_The woman who made the first request of the Phantom Thieves also came here, last month. She bought eleven red roses, according to Haru, all in an effort to draw out her stalker, Natsuhiko Nakanohara. Haru remembers Akira acting very strangely when she arrived, for no real reason_. She takes a step closer. _On the sixth of May, you encountered Daisuke Takanashi. You were with Ryuji Sakamoto in an alley not far from Shujin. You witnessed him bullying Minoru Maehara. When he inquired about your presence together, you stated you were on a date. It's odd that you would've committed yourself to the charade to obfuscate me so completely that you would tell someone you happened across by chance that you were on a date. That you'd lie to Takanashi due to the low probability I'd encounter him later and inquire about that specific interaction. No, it's more likely that this was when you became aware of his misdeeds, and chose to act on Maehara's request on the PhanSite_.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Takamaki demands.

_These two events led you - or, to be more accurate, Akira - to recognize the overall sloppiness in how you conducted your missions. Which is why the PhanSite switched over to private requests. It's more secure. You still get to flaunt your successes, while mitigating the risks. That was, of course, right around the time you must've learned I was looking into the Phantom Thieves, which is why Akira had you conduct that false flag operation on May ninth_.

"Either say something," Takamaki shouts, "or get the hell out of my way!" She makes another move to get around her. Makoto blocks her. "What the hell?"

_And then there's the cat. And Madarame. And Kobayakawa. And_ all of it _, and I can't say any of this to you because..._

Because if the Phantom Thieves had killed Madarame and Kobayakawa, or even if they had just killed one of them, Makoto was standing face to face with a killer. She looks Ann Takamaki up and down, and a voice in her mind asks a question. _What's the truth?_

She feels a flush creep up her skin. _I don't know. I just don't know._

"Get your psycho ass away from me," Takamaki growls.

Makoto sees the shoulders move. She knows what to look for. The last time, she was so caught off guard that the blow connected with her face before she could even process what was happening.

This time.

Makoto's arm snaps up. Her forearm blocks Takamaki's own, and the blow stops, barely an inch from her face. _I can't say any of what I'm thinking. But there is something I can say._

She shoves Takamaki's arm away. "I'm sorry," she says. "About Suzui."

Takamaki's face goes pale. Her eyes widen. "You..." She starts, then trails off. Wets her lips. " _Don't_."

Long winded explanations race through her mind. Excuses. Redirections. Makoto says none of these. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt her." It's an effort to keep her eyes focused on Takamaki's. She wants to look away. "I'm sorry to her, and I'm sorry to you too."

Takamaki's face contorts a bit. "Me?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for everything you went through. I'm sorry for everything Suzui went through. With Kamoshida. I'm sorry I didn't do anything."

Ann Takamaki is a Phantom Thief.

Maybe that makes her a murderer.

Maybe.

But she was - definitely - the victim of Kamoshida's advances, again and again.

She was - definitely - a girl who had her best friend raped and abused, and had _done something_ about it.

_Maybe the ends don't justify the means_ , she thinks. _Maybe the reasons do_.

And again, a voice in her mind asks a question, _Is that_ your _justice then?_

Makoto brings herself back to the present. "I'm sorry, Takamaki."

Takamaki's eyes leave her own. They drift to the floor and stare. Makoto watches as Takamaki's hands ball into fists. She takes a deep breath.

And holds it.

And holds it.

And holds it.

She lets it out. Her fingers loosen. Takamaki makes another move to slide around Makoto. This time, Makoto lets her go.

She halts alongside her. "Just..." She starts, her voice almost a whisper. "Just leave us alone."

Makoto's phone rings.

With a sigh, she pulls it from her pocket and checks the ID. It's Haru.

She brings it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Mako-chan!" The voice says. "Great news! I think I've cornered him. I just saw Mona-chan run around a corner. I'm closing in."

Makoto smiles. "That's good, Haru. Listen. When you-"

"Oh my go-" Haru screams, and the line goes dead.

Makoto feels her throat dry. "Haru?"

#

Joker and Mona lay prone just beneath the lip of the stairs. "Okay," Joker whispers. "So this is bad."

"Bad?" Mona hisses. " _Bad?_ Haru's in the Metaverse!"

She'd put her phone away, and stands now, arms clutched to her sides, eyes wide in terror. She turns from side to side, calling, but with each word, her voice diminishes. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"We need to get her out of here," Mona says.

Haru's eyes snap towards their direction. Joker holds a finger up to his lips. "Keep your voice down, I think she heard you."

"Crap," Mona moans, and slides further down the steps.

"Alright, forget that. How do we get her out of here? We had to push Ann out last time. We can't just do that for Haru. She'll recognize us." He glances over at Mona. "Well, she'll recognize me, anyway."

Haru takes a tentative step towards their hiding spot, and says, "Is someone there? I can hear you, I think. Are you..." She doesn't finish, but takes another step towards them.

Mona shakes his head back and forth. "Oh man, she's heading this way. Now what?"

Joker's brain works overtime. There had to be some way of getting her out of the Metaverse without her seeing them, _and_ someway of convincing her the Metaverse didn't exist, once she left it.

He snaps his fingers. "I've got it," he says, a grin on his face. Without another word, he pushes himself to his feet and darts up and over the top of the stairs.

"What're you-" Mona cries, but it's too late.

Haru's eyes have only a bare second to focus on him before Joker's mask disappears, and he calls out, "White Rider!"

The horrid thing materializes in an explosion of blue fire. The cloaked skeleton, with its fearsome bow, rears up on its maggot white horse, itself dotted with eyes, and levels his weapon at Haru. The horse whinnies like the sound of a pounding drum.

Haru takes it all in, screams, and faints.

"Bingo," Joker replies, and banishes his Persona. He turns back to Mona, and gives him a thumbs up.

Mona's head pokes over the top of the stairs, and he stares at him, slack jawed. "You..."

"I know, I know," Joker says, and pats the air. "I'm-"

"You _jackass!_ " Mona hollers.

Joker blinks. "Eh?"

"Your genius plan was to terrify Haru so she'd pass out?"

Joker frowns. "Well, you weren't exactly coming up with any gems yourself, Mona. And what's the big deal? It worked, didn't it? Now we can carry her out of the Metaverse, no problem."

Mona shakes his head. "Don't you have that one Persona? That one you called Sandman?"

Joker nods. "Yeah, so what?"

Mona waves his arms in the air. "So can't _that_ Persona actually put people to sleep?"

Joker nods. "Uh-huh."

Mona groans. "So why didn't you just use Sandman to put her to sleep? Why'd you sick the scariest looking thing in the Universe on her?"

Joker frowns. "Oh." His eyes widen. " _Oh_." He turns back to Haru's prone body. "Oh no. You've got a point there."

"And what _exactly_ are we supposed to do once we get here out of here? Dragging an unconscious girl out of Shibuya Station will look pretty out of place, so we'd have to leave her there."

Joker swallows. "I'm starting to see the flaw in my thinking."

#

_Just walk away_.

Ann stares at the ground, a scowl on her face.

_Just walk away._

She doesn't need to be here. Doesn't need to deal with this girl's bullshit anymore.

She lifts her gaze and glances back.

Makoto Niijima paces the empty hall, her phone to her ear.

"Come on, come on," she whispers. "Pick _up_ , Haru."

_Just walk away_.

Makoto Niijima was their enemy. She was investigating them. She had conspired with Haru Okumura to trap Morgana.

_Just walk away_.

Niijima takes the phone from her ear and looks at it. Her face is pale. Her hands shake. Her eyes are wide and white. Her fingers fly across the screen, sending what looks like text after text. "Where are you?" She mutters. "Please, Haru. Where are you?"

_Just walk away_.

This was the perfect time to leave. She checks her phone. Akira had sent a message about a hat, which she guessed meant he'd found Morgana. She could leave. Whatever's going on with Makoto Niijima, it's not her problem.

The Student Council President’s voice runs through her mind once more.

_I’m sorry._

Ann curses herself, and before she can talk herself out of doing it, turns back towards Niijima and asks, "Is everything alright, Niijima-senpai?"

The girl glances over at her, then blinks, as if surprised she's still there. "I... what?"

Ann points at the phone in her hand. "You seem freaked."

Niijima shakes her head. "Freaked? No. It's not that. It's Haru. My friend. Haru who works at-"

Ann nods. "I know, I know. She works at Rafflesia with Akira. What about her?"

"She called, and then it disconnected," Niijima says, and accentuates each word by gesturing with her phone.

"Okay... so?" Ann asks. "No biggie. You've heard of dropped calls, yeah? Happens all the time."

The girl's shoulders slump forward, and in an absolutely terrified voice, she asks, "Then why isn't she calling _back?_ "

"Whoa, okay." Ann takes a step towards her. "Maybe she just dropped her phone and it broke? I've done that before, more times than I'd like to admit."

"No," Niijima replies. "No. It wasn't that. She sounded scared. Really scared. I think-" She stops herself, and stares at the wall in silence.

Ann takes another step, and waves a hand in front of her face. Niijima blinks. "You think what?"

Without looking at her, Niijima mumbles, "What if it's Sugimura?"

Ann frowns. "Who?"

"Nothing," Niijima blurts. "Forget it."

Ann rolls her eyes. "Okay, look. Where was she when she called you?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in Shibuya Station."

Ann nods. She already knew Haru was somewhere close by, but didn't need to let Niijima know that. "Oh, so here?" The girl nods. "Okay. Well then, come on. We're not going to find her by just standing here."

She turns and starts to walk back towards the crowded mall. Niijima follows alongside her for a few paces, then halts, eyes wide. She looks over at her and says, "You'll... help?"

_Apparently_. "Guess so," Ann mutters. "Let's go."

The two girls step back into the mall.

#

When Akira had left the Metaverse with Morgana and an unconscious Haru in tow, his burner phone had blown up with messages.

Messages from Ann's direct phone.

**_ANN_ ** _: No time to explain! I'm with Niijima. Looking for Haru! Get Mona and get out!_

They had materialized back into the side hall Akira had transported them from in the first place. Morgana had balked at this, stating that perhaps entering and exiting Mementos depended less on where you were when you left Mementos, and more on where you were when you entered.

Akira had hefted Haru and reminded him that they had more important things to discuss.

"Lady Ann's with Makoto?" Morgana asks, when Akira shows him the message. "Why?"

"No idea. But this could work, actually." Akira crouches down and props Haru up against the wall of the hallway. Her head dips towards her chest. "I'll text her back, and tell her where Haru is. Then, she leads Makoto here, picks her up, and problem solved."

Morgana stares up at him. "I don't know if I'd qualify that as 'problem solved,' but whatever. Fine. So long as we make sure Haru's safe, and get the group together and out of here, I'm all for it."

Akira nods, and types out a response from his burner.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Don’t freak out. Haru's in a service corridor near the entrance. She's unconscious._

Ann's response comes a few seconds later.

**_ANN_ ** _: WTF!? WHY?_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Long story. Just lead Makoto here, but make it look natural._

"Alright," Akira says, and sticks the phone back in his pocket. He nods back towards the entrance to the hall. "Let's hide over there and make sure she's okay."

"Got it," Morgana says.

It only takes a few minutes for Makoto and Ann to show up. The two girls round a corner further down the hall, heads swiveling around, and Akira and Morgana sneak further back, and out of sight.

Then, he hears Ann say, "Hey, is that her?"

Makoto cries, "Haru," and Akira breathes a sigh of relief.

All he had to do now was get Morgana out of Shibuya Station, and he could meet up with Ann and the others. They'd have to figure out what to do with Morgana's intel, but they'd dodged a real bullet today.

Haru, of all people, had been to the Metaverse. But, they'd managed to extract her relatively simply, and there was no evidence of...

_Evidence._

_Evidence._

Akira rips his phone - his real phone, not his burner - from his pocket. The Metaverse Nav app stares up at him from his screen.

_When Ann accidentally got transported to Kamoshida's Castle, the app appeared on her phone. When we took Yusuke to Madarame's, the same happened to his phone._

He pokes his head around the corner, and sees Makoto knelt next to Haru, jostling her shoulder gently. Ann stands before them, arms crossed.

"Shit," Akira hisses.

"What's wrong?" Morgana asks.

"The app," he replies.

"The app?" Morgana blinks, then his eyes widen. "Oh no."

He plunges his regular phone back into his pocket, and pulls out his burner.

#

Haru's eyelids shudder, and Ann thinks to herself, _Akira has SO MUCH explaining to do._

Her phone vibrates. She pulls it out.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Don't overreact to my next message._

Ann's eyes narrow. _Oh great, now what?_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Haru was in Mementos. The app may be on her phone._

Ann bites down on her tongue to keep from shouting.

She begins to type.

**_ANN_ ** _: HOW?_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: I'll explain later. Get her phone, and delete the app if it's there!_

Ann looks down at Niijima and Haru.

**_ANN_ ** _: HOW^2?!!!!!????_

**_AKIRA_ ** _: I don't know! Think of something!_

Haru's eyes open, and she blinks.

Niijima lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god."

Haru turns her head slightly and stares at her. "Mako-chan?" Her eyes widen, and she gasps. "Where is it?" She asks, her head twisting around, searching for something. "Where is it?"

"Haru," Niijima says, and takes the girl's shoulders firmly in her grasp. "Calm down. Calm down, you're alright."

"The monster," Haru exclaims. "There was a monster!"

Makoto wraps one arm around her shoulder. "Haru, it's okay. You're here now. You're safe."

Haru's breath gradually slows. A bit of color returns to her face. Finally, when it seems she understand her surroundings, she says, "Oh, Mako-chan, it was awful. I was in this place. It was like Shibuya, but it was like a nightmare or something."

_That's Mementos alright_ , Ann thinks. _Damn_. How was she going to get this girl's phone away from her?

Niijima shakes her head. "You must've hit your head or something. We found you in this hallway. Remember? You called me and told me you'd found..." Niijima glances back up at Ann. "Well, you called me, and then it seemed like something had gone wrong. I'd thought, maybe Sugimura had-"

"Takamaki?" Haru asks, and stares up at her.

Ann tries to put a smile on her face, and raises a hand in greeting. "Uh, hi."

Haru - never taking her eyes from Ann - leans over towards Niijima and whispers, "I thought we weren’t eliminating her until Phase Two?"

"What?" Ann asks.

"What?" Niijima asks, eyes bulging. "No. No, she actually helped me look for you. She's the one who found you, actually."

Ann rubs the back of her head. "Well, you were standing right next to me."

Haru starts to stand, but her legs wobble as she does so.

"Hey, relax," Niijima says. "Don't push yourself."

"I'm fine," Haru says. "I just feel a little off, that's all."

Niijima nods. "Let me help you up. My place is pretty close to here, remember? We can go there and recuperate."

Ann blanches. _Oh boy._ "I'll come too.”

Both girls stare up at her. Niijima meets her gaze with a frown. "That's really not necessary. Now that I'm sure Haru's alright, there's-"

"I, uh, insist," Ann blurts. "Yep. I insist. I want to make sure she's okay. Besides, you know how guys are and stuff. They see Okumura looking vulnerable, they might try something, even with you there. But with three, there won't be a problem."

It's the dumbest, lamest excuse she can come up with, but it's all she's got.

Niijima stares at her for a longer time than she thinks is necessary. Then, she says, “Well, I suppose that’s fine.”

Together, they help Haru to her feet.

_You are so dead, Akira_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, hope you enjoyed today's chapter. The day's not done yet!
> 
> So, I've decided I'm going to take a break from posting after next week. My wife and I will be going on vacation, and I should probably pay more attention to her than this story about magical Japanese teenagers. 
> 
> I'll be gone the week of 6/4 and 6/11, so we'll definitely conclude this big day before I leave.
> 
> Next week will be a Monday - Friday schedule. 
> 
> As always, I want to thank every single one of you for reading Crimson. It means a lot, and I hope you'll continue to do so.


	64. Another Long Day Pt 3. - Infiltration and Exfiltration Routes

The trip is short. Niijima's apartment is a bare handful of blocks from Shibuya Station. Haru regains more of herself as they walk, but still, Niijima keeps a hand on her shoulder. Ann brings up the rear, doing her best to infer in which pocket Haru keeps her phone.

"...was awful," Haru is saying. "So vivid, too. It was like the Grim Reaper, but instead of a scythe, it had a golden bow. And its horse! Oh, Mako-chan, its horse was _terrible_."

Ann scowls. _So, somehow Akira transports Haru into the Metaverse and sends White freaking Rider at her, and_ I'm _the one who has to clear the app from her phone? This sucks_. She intends to drag an explanation out of him, when next she sees him.

Niijima nods along with Haru's story, the very image of understanding, and repeats - like a litany, "Just a dream, Haru. Just a dream." Beyond nodding, the girl's head turns a few times towards Ann during their walk. Ann can't read the look. It's not _quite_ suspicion, but she doesn't know what else it could be.

Niijima leads them through the front door of a newly built, steel-colored apartment complex. Ann whistles as the semi-spacious lobby. "Swanky."

"Thank you," Niijima says, and pushes the elevator button. "And thank you for your help, Takamaki. I've got Haru from here."

Ann throws on her most authentic smile. "Totally, I understand. But I'm the kind of girl who likes to finish things I start, you know? Mind if I come upstairs with you? Just to make sure she's okay?"

Haru's lips are a tight, white line. She glances over at Niijima, who meets her gaze. Neither says anything.

The elevator doors part with a _ding_ , and Niijma says, "Sure."

They pile inside.

The ride doesn't take long, and Ann makes a note that they stop on the eighth floor. Niijima leads them down a hall of numbered doors, until she stops outside 823, and removes a keycard from her pocket.

"My sister won't be home," Niijima says, as she leans over the reader.

 _Sister?_ Ann thinks. _What about her parents?_ She keeps her mouth shut, and Niijima opens the door and walks inside.

The place is very Makoto Niijima. Everything looks to be in its proper place. All the tables and countertops are pristine and uncluttered. The whole motif of the place though, between the dark furniture and stainless steel _everything_ , gives off a sterile feel. It seems more – to Ann - like one of those mock-ups you see in a furniture store, than a place where flesh and blood humans reside.

"Nice," Ann says, but she can hear how unenthused her own voice is.

Niijima nods. "Thank you. Would you like some water?"

"Uh, sure."

Haru moves over towards the couch. Niijima steps behind her, and gives her friend's shoulder a single, solid squeeze. Haru halts and says, "I'll make us some snacks."

Niijima shakes her head as the girl joins her in walking towards the kitchen. "Haru, you should lie down and rest."

Haru smiles. "It won't take more than a moment, Mako-chan."

Both girls disappear into the kitchen, and Ann hears the sink turn on. _Okay, think. How the hell am I going to get Haru's phone away from her?_ She could exchange numbers with the girls. If she can get Haru's phone in her hands, under the guise of entering her own number, she can find the app and delete it in a heartbeat. But would they buy that? You don't exchange numbers unless you're friends. And Ann is emphatically _not_ a friend.

Haru reenters the living room with a big plastic bowl in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and a bag of celery sticks tucked under her arm. "Here you go," she says, setting the water before Ann. "Don't worry, it isn’t poisoned."

Ann's eyes widen, and she stares up into the smiling face of Haru Okumura. _What is up with this chick?_ Hadn't she mentioned something about 'eliminating' her during 'Phase Two?'

Haru places the bowl and celery sticks on the table, and sits down on the couch. She lets out a long yawn a moment later, and blinks her eyes a few times. "You won't mind if I lay down, would you, Takamaki-chan? I think the whole experience this afternoon exhausted me."

"Oh, uh, no," Ann says, smiling. "Go ahead."

Haru nods, then withdraws her phone from her pocket and sets it on the table, along with a keyring and small hand purse. "I can't stand to have those on me with I sleep, don't you agree?"

"Totally," Ann replies.

Haru nods, then settles back on the couch and shuts her eyes.

 _Holy crap,_ Ann thinks. The phone is _right there_. She looks back towards the kitchen. No sign of Niijima. What was she doing in there?

Haru's chest starts to rise and fall steadily. Was she asleep already?

This might be her best chance. Ann leans forward, and extends her hand out towards the phone, when Niijima reenters the room, a frown on her face.

"I wa-" Ann starts, but Niijima cuts her off.

"I'm sorry, Takamaki," she says, and Ann notices she has her own phone in her hand. "It's my sister. I'm just going to step into my bedroom and take it."

"Oh, right. No, of course. Go ahead."

Niijima's eyes fall on Haru. She smiles, warmly. "That one could sleep through a motorcycle rally."

"Really?" Ann asks.

Niijima nods. "Really." She holds the phone up to her ear and says, "Hi, Sis. What's up?"

Ann listens for her as she rounds the corner, and a moment later, hears a door close.

She waits ten seconds. Then, she whispers, "Okumura-san?" No response. "Haru?" She asks, a bit louder. Nothing.

She darts out with her hand and snatches up Haru's phone. She goes to the app menu and scrolls, scrolls, scrolls.

There it is.

The Metaverse Navigation app.

 _Damn_. Ann places her thumb over the app, and drags it to the phone's trashcan. Then, she sets the phone back down in the approximate spot she'd taken it from.

She takes out her own phone and texts Akira.

 ** _ANN_** _: Mission Complete_.

He'll probably give her grief later for not 'being vague' enough, but she doesn't give a shit right now. Being in Makoto Niijima's apartment has sent her nerves skyrocketing.

A few moments pass, and she hears a door open.

Niijima steps back into the room and nods towards the unopened snacks. "Not hungry?"

Ann shakes her head, and stands. "Actually, I should be going. Haru's safe here with you."

Niijima nods. "Yeah." She gestures towards the door. "I'll see you out."

#

Makoto stands with her arms crossed, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

Takamaki rocks back and forth on her heels, eyes glued to the up/down arrows above the elevator door.

Makoto can hardly blame her for being uncomfortable. It had been a rather unsettling hour.

Makoto opens her mouth, shuts it, then mutters out, "Thank you."

Takamaki glances over at her. "Huh? For what?"

Makoto makes herself look her in the eye. "For helping me look for Haru. I was afraid something had happened to her. You didn't have to assist me. But you did. So, thank you."

The girl nods, then shrugs. "No problem."

When Haru’s phone had disconnected, it had seemed like all rational thought had left her. All she could think of was that scumbag Sugimura, grabbing her in some hallway. The thought of his smug fucking face made her want to snap his neck, and the more she thought about it, the more her thoughts raced in turn, until she no longer had control over her own mind.

If Takamaki hadn't snapped her back to reality, and helped her find Haru, she might still be pacing that empty hall.

She didn't want to think about what would've happened to Haru if they hadn't found her.

And yet.

She swallows. She knows she's about to step on a landmine, but she pushes ahead regardless. "Is Akira alright?"

Makoto can almost taste the tension increase. When Takamaki speaks, her voice is cold. "What?"

Makoto doesn't look at her. She just stares at the doors. "We haven't spoken since... well, you remember. He was having a hard time adjusting. I just want to know if he's okay."

The elevator door opens with a _ding_. Takamaki and Makoto step inside.

She hits the ground floor button. Takamaki leans against the wall, tightlipped, brows furrowed.

"Please?" Makoto asks, as the elevator begins to descend. "All I-"

"He's fine," she mutters. "It's still hard for him. People give him crap a lot. People think the worst of him. But he's fine. He's got us."

And for a moment, Makoto allows herself to believe the 'us' Takamaki references includes herself.

But she knows it doesn't.

Something shifts in her chest like the grating of teeth. Because Takamaki is privy. Whatever may exist between Takamaki and Akira, she's a part of his inner circle. Along with Sakamoto and possibly Morgana, the Magical Cat. She knows the score. The secrets. And Makoto doesn't. No matter how much she wraps herself in all this, she'll always be the one on the outside, fighting to see her way in.

And that hurts.

"Good," she says.

The doors open, and Takamaki steps off. She turns and looks back at Makoto, and the two girls stare at one another, but neither says a thing.

Then, the doors close.

Makoto rides the elevator back up to her floor in silence.

She enters her apartment to find Haru sitting up on the couch. "Well?" She asks.

Haru nods towards her phone. "She did something to my phone," Haru replies.

Makoto's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes, but I can't tell what. It doesn't look like she installed anything on it."

Makoto takes a seat next to Haru on the couch. It had been way too suspicious. Takamaki's insistence on accompanying them to Makoto's home. Her wanting to come upstairs.

That was why Makoto had pulled Haru into the kitchen, and instructed her to pretend to fall asleep on the couch. Then, Makoto had acted as if Sae had called her, and stepped out of the room long enough for Takamaki to do whatever she'd planned on doing.

"You're sure it was your phone?" Makoto asks. "You didn't see or hear her walking around, did you?"

Haru shakes her head. "I kept my breathing steady, so she thought I was asleep, but I didn't hear her do anything else. I heard her set it back down, and I heard the small little noise it makes when you type on it."

"Maybe she sent a message?"

Haru shakes her head. "There's nothing in the sent folder."

"She might've deleted it afterwards," Makoto points out. "Eliminated the evidence." The thought gives her pause. "You said there's nothing new installed on your phone. What about anything removed?"

Haru scrolls through her apps, brows furrowed. "Everything looks the same. I don't know. I've got so many useless apps I don't use, it's hard to remember which are which." She sighs, and sets it down. "Sorry, Mako-chan. Whatever she did, I've got no idea what it is."

"That's alright," Makoto says, and sets a hand on her shoulder. "The important thing is that we know she did _something_." She frowns. "You may want to consider getting a new phone."

Haru nods, but doesn't reply.

Makoto leans back on the couch and thinks. _I'm missing something_. Haru and Makoto had split up to find Morgana. Makoto had encountered Ann Takamaki. Haru had called and stated she'd seen Morgana go around a corner. During that conversation, the call had dropped. Then, Takamaki and Makoto had spent approximately fifteen minutes looking for Haru, and had found her, unconscious, in a service hallway.

Takamaki had then helped Makoto bring Haru back to her home, and insisted on coming upstairs. Obviously, it was so she could do something to Haru's phone, but what? She'd only had it in her hands for a few seconds, and Takamaki didn't seem like a hacker. So whatever she did must've been quick.

 _Another question, is when did Takamaki decide to help us get home? Before, or after we found Haru?_ If it was before, then maybe their entire interaction had been planned. If it was after, then Takamaki must've realized something when they'd found Haru. Something to do with the phone.

There was something underlining all of this, Makoto just knew it.

But whatever the missing piece was, she couldn't fathom it.

#

"And that was it," Ann says. "That was everything."

They sit in various spots throughout Akira's room. Ann and Ryuji on the couch. Yusuke with one elbow balanced on Akira's desk. Morgana, spread out on the bed. Akira stands alone, pacing the room.

He stops, and stares at the floor. "Haru fell asleep _that_ quickly?" He asks.

Ann shrugs. "Yeah. I mean, I grabbed her phone and everything, and she didn't wake up."

Akira nods. _That, or she let you think she was asleep_. He tried to work out how likely it was that the two girls knew Ann was up to something. _Pretty freaking likely_. Still, Ann had done what she'd needed to do. Deleted the app from Haru's phone. "Right, nice job, Ann."

She smiles. Ryuji leans his head against the couch and groans. "But, man! Haru was in the Metaverse? How freakin' crazy is that?"

Yusuke frowns. "I'm more perturbed with the discovery Morgana made. The Operation dubbed..." He glances over at Morgana. "What was it, again?"

Morgana stretches on his back. "Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic."

"Yes, that. A particularly disturbing moniker."

Akira fights to keep the smile from his face. _Of course it's called that_. He approaches the wall and leans against it. "Well, the way I see it, we've got a few advantages." He looks back over at Yusuke. "First off, it seems like they don't know about you yet."

Yusuke straightens. "Me?"

Morgana nods. "That's true. I didn't see anything about Yusuke on the board they had."

"If they still think the Phantom Thieves only consist of Shujin Students," Akira continues. "Then we could use Yusuke to lead them astray."

Ryuji lifts his hand. "Yeah, but how? Yusuke ain't exactly...uh..." He snaps his fingers. "What's the word?"

"Discreet?" Akira asks.

"Subtle?" Ann asks.

"Careful?" Morgana asks.

Ryuji nods. "Yeah. All those."

Yusuke stands. "I resent this slander!"

Morgana frowns. "No offense, Yusuke. But you did kind of blurt out that you were a Phantom Thief to Mishima the other night."

Ann blinks. "Wait, Yusuke met Mishima? When did that happen?"

Akira and Ryuji share wide-eyed looks with one another. "The other night, no big deal," Akira puts in, quickly. "Regardless, the important thing is that Yusuke isn't known to them. So, with the right strategy, we could kick them off our trails once and for all."

Yusuke sits back down, arms crossed, pouting.

Ryuji leans forward, clasping his hands together. "Okay, but dude, forget about the whole Yusuke thing for a second-"

"This matter is not settled," Yusuke mumbles.

Ryuji presses on. "And forget about Haru's phone thing, too. Isn't the bigger deal that they know, that we know?"

"What'd you mean?" Ann asks.

Ryuji nods his head towards Morgana. "Makoto and Haru saw Morgana readin' the board where they kept all that crap on us. So, like, they know we know they think we're Phantom Thieves, right? Isn't this gonna be super awkward from now on?"

Akira smile. "Actually, they don't know that we know."

Ryuji's brows furrow. "Eh? What'd you mean? Morgana told us everything."

Akira shakes his head. "They never actually saw us recover Morgana. All they know for certain is that Morgana ran into Shibuya Station, and Makoto bumped into Ann." He spreads his hands wide. "What if we never found Morgana? What if Morgana is lost?"

The thieves glance at one another.

"Ann," Akira says, when he sees the looks they exchange with one another. "In all the time you spent with Makoto today, you never actually talked about the Phantom Thieves, did you?"

Ann nods. "No. It never came up, but I was getting some really creepy vibes from Niijima when she found me outside Rafflesia."

"Well," Akira continues, and sticks his thumb towards Morgana. "Haru never saw us either. We managed to knock her out before it became an issue, and got her out of the Metaverse. So, now we know what they know, but they can't know for sure that we know."

"But will they not just assume?" Yusuke asks. "Morgana, you said they saw you texting with my phone."

"That's true," Morgana replies.

Akira smirks. "They _will_ assume. Of course they've assumed that we've got Morgana by now. But what happens when I go up to Haru tomorrow, at school, and ask her how Morgana is liking her house?"

Ryuji's smile spreads across his face. "So, she thinks we never found Morgana at Shibuya. She goes into panic mode."

Akira sits down on his bed, and runs his hand over Morgana's head. "If there is someone else who can access the Metaverse, that's something we need to deal with sooner, rather than later. I don't think any of us want Makoto or Haru in the crossfire of that. We need to get them off our backs, once and for all. We'll distance ourselves more and more. I can blame Haru for losing my cat. I can quit my job at the flower shop. We cut them out of our lives completely."

The Thieves glance at one another. "And..." Ann says. "You're okay with that?"

Akira sighs and stares at the floorboards. "It doesn't matter if I'm okay with it or not. It's what needs to be done. So, tonight, I'll have a little chat with Igor. Make sure he keeps the Nav off Haru's phone. Tomorrow, I'll head to school early."

Ryuji frowns. "Why, dude?"

Akira smiles. "Morgana, didn't Haru and Makoto start chasing you right after you escaped?"

Morgana stands up and stretches his legs. "Yeah?"

Akira smirks. "I bet it was pretty stressful, running all the way to Shibuya Station. Makoto losing Haru. Haru getting trapped in the Metaverse and getting the crap scared out of her-"

"Wasn't that your fault?" Ann asks.

Akira clears his throat. "And then the awkward situation with Ann as she followed them back to Makoto's place. A pretty eventful day, wouldn't you say?"

Yusuke moves a lock of hair from his face. "What are you saying, Akira?"

He shrugs. " I'm just wondering, if, in all the excitement, they forgot to go back to Shujin and take all their evidence down."

#

**_HARU_ ** _: I'm back home. What a day!_

Makoto stares at the blue light of her phone, and smiles.

 ** _MAKOTO_** _: You could say that again_.

**_HARU_ ** _: We'll talk more about it tomorrow, goodnight, Mako-chan!_

Makoto texts her own goodbye, and sets the phone down on her desk. She trudges over to her bed, and collapses onto the sheets. She'd racked her brain for hours after Takamaki left, but she couldn't figure it out.

The problem was she didn't have enough information. There were just too many things you could do with a phone. If she had just a little more information, she could've made a deduction, but with what little she had to go on, it was virtually impossible.

She yawns.

Too much had happened today.

Between Morgana being able to read and text, Haru's disappearance in Shibuya, Takamaki's offer of help and her suspicious behavior, Makoto can't keep her thoughts straight.

 _If the Phantom Thieves recovered Morgana, and he's able to convey what he saw, our Operation is blown_.

She shakes her head, and shuts her eyes.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll deal with all this._

...

...

...

Her eyes snap open. She sits up, and bites her tongue as she curses.

" _Shit!"_ She winces in pain.

_The Student Council Room! Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic!_

It was all still up there.

 _All of it_.

She'd completely forgotten about it.

_How could I have been so stupid?_

She barrels out of bed, and begins to pace the room. Checks the time. The trains weren't running anymore.

Did that matter?

She had a key to the school. She could go to Shujin now, and take everything down.

If someone saw that...

She takes a deep breath. _Calm down. Think. Think of the possibilities._

If Morgana had been retrieved by the Phantom Thieves - by Akira - and had conveyed what he'd seen, no doubt Akira would want to see it. If he'd made a beeline for Shujin from Shibuya, it was possible he'd seen it already.

If not, it was possible he'd try tomorrow, as early as possible. Before the other students showed up.

Makoto's eyes widen. _Oh no_.

If _anyone_ else saw that, there'd be trouble. If a student saw it, it'd be all over the school by first period. If a faculty member saw it... well, the same thing would happen.

 _I have to take it down. I have to go now. If anyone sees that they'll think Akira is a Phantom Thief!_ And if they did, he'd be arrested. He'd be arrested and it would be her fault.

What if someone had already seen it? All those photos and whatnot had been there _all day_. What if someone had seen it?

_Stop it. Stop it! Think!_

The clubs had no need to go to the student council room. No faculty ever went there unless it was during the week. Even her fellow student council members never showed up earlier than they needed to on Monday.

_What about the janitorial staff?_

No, no that was okay. The staff didn't clean the school on the weekends, just late at night on the weekdays. Which meant they hadn't seen it yet.

Which meant it was very likely no one had seen it yet.

 _The door locks automatically when you shut it from the inside, so long as you've engaged the lock_.

Had she engaged the lock? She couldn't remember. She'd locked the door when Haru had brought Morgana in, but couldn't remember what she'd done when they'd chased him out into the hall. It was all a kind of muscle memory, and trying to actually recall it proved nearly impossible.

She had no choice. She'd just have to go as early as she could, and take it all down, before anyone had a chance to see it.

The only question was when to go.

#

Akira stares at Igor. "What'd you mean?"

Igor's manic grin grows a bit larger. "As I said, Trickster, the device you utilize is beyond my control."

His hands tighten on the bars of his cell. "The last time I was here, you said that _you_ were the one who gave us access to the app."

"I stated," Igor says. "That I had given _you_ access to the Metaverse Navigator. You, bequeathed it to your compatriots."

Akira blinks. "I didn't 'bequeath' anything. Haru got sent to the Metaverse by accident. It wasn't intentional. We got the app off her phone, but I need you to make sure it doesn't pop back onto it, like it did with mine."

Igor lifts a lazy hand into the air. "The Navigator, once given, cannot be relinquished. Is it not how you encountered your first companion?"

Akira rests his forehead against the bars. "Ryuji was an accident, too. But I didn't even know what the app was then. I do now. Haru can't be walking around with it on her phone. It's dangerous, and she's got nothing to do with this."

"It does not seem that way from my perspective."

Akira's eyes narrow. "And just what is your _perspective?_ How many riddles are you going to talk in before you give me a straight answer? I'm asking for your help. Isn't that what you keep _insisting_ you're all about? But all you do is sit there, behind that fucking ugly desk and-"

He feels Caroline's presence before he sees her, and shuts his eyes tight as her bulk launches from the shadows and smashes against his cell door.

"IWOULDTHINKYOUWOULDLEARNEDRESPECTBYNOWINMATEDOSPEAKTOTHEMASTERINSUCHAWAY"

Akira keeps his eyes closed, and cowers near the back of his cell. When he feels the presence shrink back, he approaches the door, but keeps his gaze on the floor. "Are you telling me, that we can't get the app off Haru's phone? That no matter how many times we delete, it'll just reinstall?"

Igor chuckles. "Yes. That is what I am telling you."

Akira lets out a sigh. “Fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Long Day ends, but we're not done yet!
> 
> What will the aftermath be?
> 
> Swing back on Friday to find out!
> 
> Just a reminder, I'll be taking a two week vacation after Friday's post. I'll still be around, so feel free to swing by on Twitter, or leave comments here or at the other site (FF.net or ao3, depending on where you're reading this), and say hello, or ask any questions you might have. I do love a good chat.
> 
> Have a great week!


	65. Confrontation

6/6

Makoto knows there's nothing in the dark.

Slashes of pre-dawn light creep their way through the windows and snuff out the shadows, but they do not die easily. They press back, slither and slide into new corners, new edges, everywhere Makoto looks.

She knows there's nothing in the dark.

There are some things you should not do when exhausted. Breaking into your school is one of them, though - Makoto reminds herself - this is not _technically_ breaking and entering. She has a key. Keys make all the difference. This school is a part of her and she is a part of it. Ergo, fear of Shujin's abandoned and silent hallways makes as much sense as fear of her own arm.

Those shapes she sees in the classrooms, those eyes that follow her as the heads that hold them swivel, they are the by-products of her sleep addled brain. Flotsam drifting up from her subconscious.

Too many nights awake in bed.

Too many nights listening to the house creep.

Too many nights wondering when Daddy was coming home, until the night he didn't.

The ghosts aren't real.

But then again, what if they are?

She'd left for Shujin a little after four in the morning. The trains weren't running, so she'd had to traverse the entire distance on foot. A few men had catcalled her, but she'd done her best to ignore them and they hadn't given chase.

Her shoes _clickclack_ against the school's tile as she reaches the third floor. Makoto steels herself and dashes down the hall, teeth bared against whatever might leap out of the dark.

She reaches the Student Council room un-hounded and jiggles the handle. It's locked. After she heaves a relieved sigh, she draws a second key from her pocket, and slides it home.

Keys make all the difference.

The lock clicks open, and dread seizes her, fingers frozen on the handle. She imagines opening the room to something horrid, something with long, spindly legs and fingers, reaching and grasping and searching for her.

Her breath leaves her in a hiss, and she shoves the door open.

An empty room greets her.

On the board, right where she'd left it, is everything for 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu or Something Less Drastic.'

A small, soft whimper escapes her throat, and she shuts the door behind her and marches up to the board. She slings her bag onto the table, and unclips it open. Reaching in, she shoves her notebook, textbook, and a slim manila folder she's had for quite some time, to the side.

Then, she proceeds to rip everything off the board. She doesn't bother to organize. Doesn't bother to pay attention to what's what. All she wants is to tear it all away. Picture after map after notecard is freed and shoved into her bag. The whole process takes a bare minute.

Cortisol forces her eyes over the board one last time.

No scrap has escaped her notice.

Makoto collapses into one of the chairs littering the room. She sets her bag at her feet, and breaths.

Her gaze falls to Morgana's cat carrier, abandoned in the center of the table. Absently, she reaches in, and prods the thin piece of plastic that had concealed the phone. "Clever," she mutters.

She feels her hands shake before she sees them. Not by much, but in the stillness of the room, it seems tremendous.

"It's okay," she whispers to herself, and rubs them together. "It's okay."

Time passes and her hands settle.

Then, she sits and stares at the empty board.

She sits there for a good, long while.

#

_"Someday, Locke Lamora," he said, "someday, you're going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so_ overwhelmingly _that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee. And I just hope I'm still around to see it."_

" _Oh please," said Locke. "It'll never happen_.”

Akira smiles.

"Yo."

He lifts his gaze. Morgana trots up to him, Akira's phone held aloft in his tail.

"Well?" Akira asks.

"See for yourself." His tail flicks, and the phone makes a lazy arch in the early morning air, before Akira's hand darts out and snatches it.

With his other, he shuts the book and slips it back into his bag.

He opens the phone's camera app, and swipes through the pictures.

His smile lifts higher, and he spreads his back against the now familiar alley's wall. Shujin looms large and silent to his right. "I knew it."

"I barely had time to get back out to the windowsill before Makoto showed up," Morgana says.

Akira had watched her stilted, nervous approach to Shujin not fifteen minutes earlier. He'd used his burner to send a text to his regular phone, warning Morgana to wrap things up.

"Good thing we got here early," he says, and yawns. Victory came with a cost.

And rewards. Morgana had captured every millimeter of that board.

"Nice work, Morgana." He scrolls to the end, and finds a video file. "What's this?"

Morgana glances away. "Well," he mutters, and rolls his shoulders like a shrug.

When it's clear the cat will say no more, Akira presses play. He watches silent footage as Makoto enters the room, opens her bag, and rips everything off the wall. Her abandon unsettles him. There's fury in her face, mixed with exhaustion and something else.

He watches her drop into a chair.

Watches her hands start to shake.

Watches as she rubs them together and whispers to herself.

His smile is gone. "You shouldn't have filmed this, Morgana."

The cat shoots him a look. "It's not like I knew what it was going to be ahead of time! What if she had something else in her bag? What if she _added_ something to the board?"

The video ends, and Akira deletes it.

"You okay?" Morgana asks.

Akira slides his phone back into his pocket. "Yeah. You know what you're doing today?"

Morgana's head bobs in a nod. "Yep. Keep my distance, and make sure nothing Metaverse-y happens."

#

Haru stifles a yawn with the back of her hand, and blinks away as much of the sleep as she can.

It had been troubled by uncomfortable dreams. She can't recall the details, but it hardly matters. She'd tossed and turned all night, and now she pays for it.

Apropos, she readjusts the bag digging into her shoulder, and turns towards Shujin.

"Hey," cuts a voice. "Haru." It comes, not from the direction of the school, but from the alleyway across from it. Behind her.

She turns to find the warm, smiling face of Akira Kurusu poking just far enough out of the alley that a sliver of sunlight refracts off his glasses. His hand is half-raised in greeting. He motions for her to come closer, and ducks back into the shadows.

If Haru's mind were properly bolstered by a good night's rest, she may have found the whole thing somewhat symbolic and more than a bit dangerous.

Instead, she finds herself wishing she had a scorpion she could throw at his face.

She stops just shy of following him into the alley, and thinks, _I should really have Makoto here for this._

Akira stoops a few feet away. "I didn't want to come up to you at school," he tells her, and shrugs. "What with all the rumors flying around about me. I figure you've got enough going on."

"Oh," she manages. _What kind of inevitable showdown is this?_

"So?" He asks, prompting.

Her eyes narrow. "So?"

Brows raised, he asks, "How's Mona-chan doing?"

Haru feels the flush spread across her chest. "What?"

"Morgana," Akira says, as if everything were right with the world. "He can get fidgety when he's in a new place. Having you around should've helped keep him calm, though. Did you take any photos?" He takes a step closer. "Can I see?"

Haru takes two rapid steps back. "Oh, um, well, you see..."

_What's going on? Didn't they get Morgana out of Shibuya Station? Didn't Mona-chan text them?_

A bead of sweat runs down the side of her head. Her throat is coated with dust. "Mona-chan's doing well. No pictures yet."

_I need to talk to Makoto. We need to figure out what's going on!_ A horrid thought snakes into her mind. _What if this was all a huge misunderstanding? What if we lost his cat?_

"Oh. Okay." Akira's smile never wavers. Never shakes. "That's cool. I'm sure he's having a good time. Let me know if you need any help with him, yeah? I'll see you at work tomorrow."

And with that, Akira Kurusu shoves his hands into his pockets and trudges off towards Shujin.

Haru watches him go, and only after he's halfway up the steps and far, far out of earshot, does she mutter a barely audible, "Uh-huh. Sounds good."

#

"Haru." Makoto's smile is worn, and as she stares at it, it seems to Haru her friend would rather be left alone. "Haru, he's messing with you."

She squirms. Homeroom hasn't begun, and the two have their heads dipped together. "I know that's a possibility, but-"

"Think about it," Makoto replies, her voice confident with tired assurance. "Given how vital Morgana must be to their operations, there's no way they didn't recover him from Shibuya Station. Besides, we saw him _texting_. It's very likely he was messaging Akira, to let him know about the situation."

"I _know_ that." Haru hears the annoyance in her voice, the edge to it, and it frustrates her that she's speaking this way with Mako-chan. "But what if we're wrong? What if Morgana really isn't a magical cat? I mean, it's crazy that we think he's magical in the first place, right?"

Makoto clears her throat. "Well, technically, you're the one subscribing to the magic cat theory. I'm still unclear how-" Whatever look Haru gives her, when Makoto sees it, she shuts up. "Right, well. It's not so much about Morgana, is it? It's about Akira. I'm sure Takamaki reported all that transpired. This is his way of throwing us off his trail. He knows what he's doing, and Morgana is safe. Trust me."

"What if he isn't?" Haru protests. "What if he's really lost and it's our fault? What if he's hurt, somewhere in Shibuya? I was supposed to take care of him."

Makoto lets out an irritated sigh. "Haru, the cat can read and use a phone. I'm sure he made it back to their headquarters, even if they didn't recover him from Shibuya Station. They want us to panic. This is another false flag. They want us off their trail, so they're trying to make us think we're responsible for losing him."

Haru shakes her head. "I don't know. I just don't know."

Makoto reaches out and sets a hand on Haru's shoulder. "I know you're afraid for Morgana, but there's no reason to be. He's fine. I'm sure of it."

#

_Another day, another goddamn assembly_ , Akira thinks and does his best to keep his mouth closed despite his body's want to yawn.

Oh, yes. Worth it, to reach Shujin so early and find out just what Makoto and Haru knew.

That he can barely keep his eyes open is an acceptable sacrifice, but it annoys him still. Especially standing upright, surrounded by this sea of students - all of whom look bored, tired, and frustrated - waiting for whatever news Shujin's administration needs to pass down to them, this time.

Ryuji leans over and jabs him with his elbow. "Who'd you think died this time?" He asks, smirking.

Ann, standing on the other side of Akira, shoots him a glare. "That's not funny, Ryuji."

Akira smiles a bit and shrugs. "It's a little funny." Ann swats him on the shoulder.

"I'm hopin' it’s Ushimaru-sensei," Ryuji continues. "He's, like, old and stuff anyway. Plus, he's a dick."

The murmuring dies down as the faculty climb to the stage. Akira notices Makoto is nowhere to be seen. He runs his eyes over the heads of the students, trying to spot her, to no avail.

Ushimaru clears his throat - and Ryuji mutters, "Damn" - and steps up to the podium. He proceeds to chatter away about responsibility and honor and prestige and a number of other buzzwords that make it harder for Akira to stifle his yawns.

Then, he says something that wakes him back up. "...introduce you all, to our new Principal, Shiori Toko."

The faculty begin to applaud, and like a stone tossed into a still pond, the students - haltingly - start to do the same.

An older woman ascends to the stage. She wears a dark brown suit over a white blouse, and smiles out at everyone from behind petite, adorable glasses. She waves at the assembled students before she even gets to the podium, and gives Ushimaru a short bow as he steps away.

"Good morning."

The students mutter out a collective response.

"I would like to thank Ushimaru-sensei for his gracious introduction, as well as all of you for your warm welcome. It is truly an honor to be appointed Principal of this fine institution."

Ryuji turns his head towards Akira, and mutters out one corner of his mouth, "Didn't Kobayakawa die, like, _last week?_ Ain't this shit happening kinda fast?"

Akira nods in lieu of a response.

Principal Toko says all the things Akira supposes new Principals are supposed to say. In all, it takes about five minutes.

She ends with, "The reputation of our institution has been assailed very recently, due to a number of scandals. Spearheaded, I am sure you know, by those who should've sought to bring honor to the school and do right by themselves. As Principal, it is my responsibility to mitigate these situations, but I would like all of your help to do so. I'd ask that you conduct yourself in a manner which befits Shujin Academy, and, more importantly, yourselves. Thank you."

She nods, and steps away from the podium.

Someone starts to clap, and it spreads. Akira joins in.

_What the hell did that last part mean?_ He wonders this, and knows that if his mind were in a proper state, he could figure it out. As it stands now, he contents himself to slink out of the gymnasium, and head back to class, Ryuji and Ann in tow.

_Principal Toko. Can't be any worse than Kobayakawa._

#

Yusuke likes to think he puts considerable effort into maintaining his stoic demeanor. An artist - he believes - should not allow one's self to be swept away by every emotion that dances through his mind.

However, this ramen place Ryuji had shown him is just _too_ good. He hunches over his bowl, and shovels the food into his mouth.

"Wow," his companion says, watching him. "You never eat like that in the cafeteria."

His sprint comes to an end, and he leans back on his stool with a content sigh. "Yes, well, that is due to Kosei's unfortunate choice in meal plans."

Naoya Makigami's smile is a genuine one. "The food is pretty bad, isn't it?"

Yusuke nods. "I once believed that its texture-less blandness was meant to elevate our minds away from the material, into a higher plane of artistic enlightenment. However, now I believe our school has simply employed sub-par chefs."

Naoya regards his untouched bowl of ramen. He lifts the set of chopsticks and brings a morsel to his mouth. "Oh, cool. It _is_ good."

Yusuke crosses his arms and smiles sagely. "My friend knows very little, but he has quite the nose for delicious, and affordable, eateries."

Their meal continues in a long silence.

Then, Naoya asks, "Yusuke? Why'd you invite me to eat with you?"

"Hmm?" He replies, sipping from his bowl.

"Don't get me wrong," Naoya continues. "I appreciate it. It's just... well, I wouldn't exactly call us friends. I mean, we are friends! It's just, I don't know. Sorry."

Yusuke shakes his head and waves his right hand through the air. "No, no. That's quite alright. It must've seemed somewhat strange, my asking you to a meal like this. You're right. While we maintain a pleasant attitude towards one another, we don't tend to actively engage in friendship-like recreations."

Yusuke has a very un-Yusuke thought. _Here goes nothing_.

"The truth, Naoya, is that I've taken an interest in you." He keeps his voice low, conspiratorial.

Naoya blinks. His eyes widen behind his glasses. He lifts a hand to his hair and brushes a stray lock behind his ear. "Geez. Um, look, Yusuke, I'm flattered and all, and it's not like I have a problem with that kind of thing or anything, but-"

"Wait, what?" Yusuke bumbles out. "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, what're _you_ talking about?"

"I only meant that I noticed you when we were changing after our latest PE class and-"

Naoya flushes red. "Oh man. Look, Yusuke, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with-"

Yusuke coughs and speaks clearly. "I noticed the bruising."

Naoya's mouth shuts. The crimson in his face drains away. "Oh. That. That's nothing." The grin he flashes isn't remotely convincing. "Man, you had me a little worried there, Yusuke!" He laughs.

"Naoya, I'm quite serious," Yusuke says. "Are you alright?"

Naoya's laughter dies. He stares at the counter for a few moments, then says, "It's really nice of you to take me out and worry about me, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way. But, whatever's going on with me is none of your business."

Yusuke nods, and looks away. "You are, of course, correct." He spreads his hands in a shrug. "But as I'm sure you're aware - because the entire school is aware - I'm sadly not unacquainted with abuse."

Naoya swallows, but doesn't say anything.

Yusuke pats his stomach. "I was never physically assaulted, of course. But for years I was subjected to a different kind of brutality. To tell it truly, that tasteless, awful food in Kosei's cafeteria was often my only meal of the day. And even then, I limited myself to small helpings."

"Madarame." Naoya whispers the name as if it were a curse he feared to be caught using.

"Sensei," Yusuke replies. "So, I hope you'll forgive my prying. I saw those marks as we were changing. It pained me to think of another going through something similar to what I experienced, and I wanted to reach out." He dips his head. "You have my apologies."

Naoya does not meet his eyes. The silence stretches to a point where Yusuke begins to wonder if the whole plan has been for naught.

Then, Naoya mumbles, "It's Kazuya. My brother. He's the one doing it."

Yusuke feigns surprise. The PhanSite Request had said as much. "Your own brother? Don't your parents have something to say about it?"

Naoya shrugs. "They don't know. They're too busy. Or maybe they do. Know, that is. I'm not sure." Naoya sucks in his lips, and glances around at the other patrons. "Can I ask you something, Yusuke?"

"By all means."

"Did you..." Naoya starts, stops, swallows, and continues. "Did you ask the Phantom Thieves to help you?"

Akira had told him to expect the question. "Actually, I didn't. Whomever sent the Phantom Thieves against Sensei, it wasn't me."

"Oh," Naoya whispers. "Well, do you know about that PhanSite they have? The one where people can send in requests?"

"I do. I believe it's all private, yes?"

"I made a request," Naoya continues. "Not too long ago. I went on there, and I told the Phantom Thieves that my brother was hurting me and I asked them to change his heart." The words rain from his mouth. "But I don't know. What does that even mean, you know? What if they do something bad to him?”

Yusuke isn't sure how to field this question. Akira hadn't foreseen it. "I don't know, Naoya. But you cannot continue like this, am I correct?"

Naoya shakes his head. "No way. I can't. It's getting worse. Kaz... well, don't tell anyone about this, okay? No one at school especially."

"My lips are sealed, as they say," Yusuke replies.

"Well, Kaz runs this gang. Not like a real gang, like these amateur robbers. He's a locksmith, so he knows about how to get into places. I don't know how their whole thing works, but they hit restaurants and places like that. All over Shibuya. It'd probably be a little bit bigger in the news, if the Phantom Thieves weren't a thing."

Yusuke's eyes widen. "So, your brother uses his job to actively improve his thieving skills?"

"Yeah," Naoya says. "If I were you, I wouldn't call anyone from Rokku Locksmiths, if you ever get shut outside the dorms."

Yusuke keeps the smile from his face.

"But I think the stress is getting to him, so he's..."

"Say no more," Yusuke says, and sets a hand on the young man's back. "I believe I can paint an adequate picture." He sighs. "I'm afraid I don't know what to say, Naoya." He ponders it a bit. "If you'd like, I could see about arranging for you to stay in the Kosei Dorms for a time."

Naoya's brows furrow. "You'd do that?"

Yusuke shrugs. "The Principal owes me something of a favor, seeing as how he had me expelled for no reason."

Naoya chuckles. "I couldn't believe that, when I heard. No one could."

"That's probably because it was based on a lie."

Naoya blinks at Yusuke's tone. "Oh, right."

"What do you say?" Yusuke asks.

"I mean, I won't say no. But I don't think that's going to really fix the problem long term."

"Well," Yusuke says. "Who knows? Perhaps the Phantom Thieves will take up your request to change your brother's heart."

Naoya turns back to his ramen. Steam no longer rises from it. "Right. That'd be the day."

#

"Mona-chan?" Haru calls out. The name bounces down the alley.

No response. Not a yowl. Not a skittering of paws on pavement. Not the shift of garbage. Nothing.

She'd seen a cat earlier, darting between two storefronts, but upon her approach, realized it was all black. No white tufts.

It wasn't that she didn't believe Makoto. Given what they knew about Akira and the Phantom Thieves, she wouldn't put it past them to feign Morgana's loss, just to throw them off balance.

She just can't be sure. And she couldn't live with herself if Morgana was truly gone, or hurt, or scared. It would be all her fault.

As soon as school ended, Haru made a beeline for Shibuya Station. She didn't have a proper plan in mind, but she'd settled on spreading out, bit by bit, away from the station and people, into all the little nooks and crannies she heard cats preferred to hide in.

Her phone has rang a few times. Whenever she checked the ID, she recognized Sugimura's number, and stuffed it back into her pocket with a disgusted grunt.

She didn't need to deal with him right now.

Another alley, and the faint sound of rapid movement startles her. "Mona-chan? Is that you?" She takes a step into the alley, then a few more. She can see that it opens up about half a block away, onto a bigger street. Not a bad place for a cat to hide.

Then, she hears the sound of a car engine approaching from behind, and the squeal of tires on blacktop, and nearly leaps out of her skin. As Haru turns, she hears the sound of a door opening and slamming shut a moment later. At the mouth of the alley, is a very large, very familiar, black limousine. And marching down the alley towards her, is a very angry Rin Sugimura.

"Do you have any idea," he growls, "how long I've been looking for you?"

Haru takes a step back. "What're you-"

"Shut up," he spits. "Where the hell were you, Haru? I called you today, yesterday, the day before yesterday, I don't know how many times. Do you think you can ignore my calls? Do you think that's _okay_?"

Haru holds up a hand, palm outwards. "Please, just calm down. I think-"

"Calm down?" He shouts. "You want me to calm down?" A cruel smile spreads over his face. "Let me ask you something. Do you think it was smart, to embarrass me in front of my father? Did you think that'd be something I'd be fine with?" He raps his forehead with his knuckles. "Are you really that empty-fucking-headed? Of course I was going to have to teach you a lesson!"

Haru feels her heart beat in her throat. She takes another step back. She wants to turn and sprint down the alley, but his eyes - wide, white, and insane - keep her locked in place.

"Stop," she mutters.

He reaches for her. "No."

She tries to turn, but it's too late. He grabs her cardigan and wraps his arm around her, pulling her to him. He reaches up with his other hand and runs it through a lock of her hair. "If you just did what you were told, this wouldn't be happening to you. This is _your fault_."

And a voice in Haru's mind asks a question.

_Do you believe him? Is this really your fault?_

Something settles in her. The panic still pumps through her, but it's muted. She shuts her eyes. Feels his hands travel across her. Ignores it.

Haru breathes. Slow. Rhythmic.

Sugimura's arms tighten.

Her adrenaline - already racing - skyrockets and she moves. Reaches up. Grabs. Holds. Pivots.

She feels his body collapse across and over her back as she pitches forward, as she pulls. Then she is light again, and Sugimura crashes to the concrete with a painful grunt and a _smack_.

She blinks. Takes a step back.

_Did I... did I really do that?_

Sugimura rolls onto his side. Looks up at her.

"You stupid bitch," he whispers. "You dumb, stupid _bitch_." He begins to climb to his feet.

Haru pats the air with her hands. "Look, just calm down. We can talk and-"

"Oh," he says, rising. "We're past talking."

He comes at her.

There's no voice this time. Nothing but the fear.

And then, a black shape shoots down from above and crosses her field of vision.

Sugimura halts, doubles over, and brings his hands to his face. A scream escapes him.

Haru's eyes search and settle on the figure crouching before her.

It's a black cat, with a white tuft on its tail. "Mona-chan!" Haru cries, bewildered.

The cat spares her a glance, then returns his glare to Sugimura.

The boy straightens. Lowers his hands. Three bright red marks slash their way across his face. They miss his eyes by what looks like millimeters.

"You little _fucker!_ " Sugimura screams. "I'll break your back!"

And then, to Haru's great surprise, Morgana arches his back, flexes out his claws, and says in a perfectly clear voice, "Bring it, _bitch_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, see you in two weeks!
> 
>  
> 
> Haha, but in all seriousness, thank you all very much for reading. It was great to come back from my extended hiatus to find you all eager for more Crimson. I hope you're all enjoying it, and I hope you're all having a great summer. Happy June, ladies and gentlemen, I'll see you on the 18th!


	66. Consequences of Truancy II

6-7

Haru's eyes flutter open and she huffs an objection against the sunlight intruding through the window. She turns her head and shoves her face deeper into the pillow.

Memories yank at her, but she shuts them down, desperate for sleep and the sweet oblivion it brings.

Eventually, though, Makoto's alarm clock goes off.

Makoto stirs, and Haru watches, as the girl sits up. A great yawn escapes her, and she lifts her hands overhead in a stretch. Strands of her short, messy hair spill every which way. Makoto looks up at her through lidded eyes and mumbles out, "Morning."

"Good morning," Haru replies, and rolls onto her side.

"Did you sleep well?"

Haru nods. "I did. Your bed is very comfortable. Though, after last night, I imagine I could've slept anywhere." Makoto rolls her shoulders and twists her back. "Um, are you alright? I'm sorry about-"

Makoto shakes her head. "It's fine. This isn't the first time I've slept on the floor."

"It isn't?"

"Nope. I've done it several times. I wanted to see if its firmness would impact the time it took my body to get to REM sleep."

"Oh," Haru replies. "Okay. Did it?"

An embarrassed frown creases her lips. "I can't really say. I used one of those sleep measurement watches, but it gave me no definitive data. I'm beginning to suspect they're all scams." She shrugs. "At least, it appears that sleeping on the floor doesn't adversely affect my brain waves, so it's fine."

Haru can't help the smile. "That's... such a Makoto thing to do." She starts to laugh. "Of course you did that."

Makoto's puzzled look fades into a grin. "I suppose it is a little weird."

The girls sit in a comfortable silence for a time, and then Haru asks, "I guess we've got to talk about last night, huh?"

Her friend nods.

Sugimura had charged and stomped down with his loafer, but Mona-chan darted out of the way, calling out, "Too slow, dickhead!" He'd leapt into the air, swung out with his paw, and left three fresh marks down Sugimura's neck. A sucked in breath, a few steps back, hand held to the wound, and Sugimura attacked again.

Morgana danced around him, avoiding every kick and swing, jumping and slashing at every bare patch of skin Sugimura left unprotected. All the while, peppering his assualt with potshots and insults.

Sugimura ended up flat on his ass, bewildered, looking for all the world like a wild animal had turned his face into a scratching post. After he bit off a few more curses, he'd scrambled back towards and into his massive limousine.

"Yeah, you better run, asshole!" Mona-chan had called.

Haru had taken her first step then.

As the car sped away, Morgana turned to regard Haru and said, "Okay. Time to deal with you."

And Haru had blurted, "You can _talk!_ "

Wide eyes. Slack jawed mouth. "Wait, you can understand me?"

Haru had taken another step, nodding.

"Oh man." A pained look crossed his face. "This is bad. Okay, uh, well, see the thing is... meow?"

Haru ran. _Oh my god_ , she'd thought. _Oh my god, he really_ is _a magical cat!_

"Hey, Haru!" Morgana had shouted. "Come back!"

Haru kept running, even as the exhaustion soaked through her, she'd kept running. Morgana chased her.

"I can explain!"

"Okay, maybe I can't explain, but still! Stop!"

"Would you stop already?"

Then, desperate, "I thought we were _friends?_ " This last one nearly tripped her up, but she kept on.

Because there was only one person she could bring this to. One person she could count on.

She doesn't know when Morgana stopped following her, but she reached Makoto's building alone.

Her friend had buzzed her up, and stood bewildered in the open door of her apartment, as Haru, between gasps, told her what had transpired.

Makoto pulled her inside, afterwards, and insisted she stay the night.

"I think this should go without saying," Makoto says, as she stands and moves to her desk. "But until we figure out this thing with Sugimura, you should stay here."

Haru wants to cross the room and throw her arms around her, but her legs are incredibly sore. "You're sure it won't put you out? I could-"

"No," Makoto declares. "We're not going to take any chances with him. My sister is barely home as it is, so it's not like it'll be an imposition. I don't know how your family will feel, but-"

"That won't matter," Haru cuts in. "Father is so busy that he rarely notices me when I'm there anyway."

Makoto nods. "Okay, good." She blanches. "Well, not _good_. But good for us, because we won't have to... you know what I mean."

Haru smiles. "I do."

Makoto taps her foot on the white rug. "There has to be something we can do about that pig. Maybe some of my father's old friends could look into it for us."

Haru pushes herself upright. "I don't think that's the way to go. Your sister spoke with the Sugimuras, didn't she? It only made him angry."

Makoto frowns at the floor and shrugs. "I could throw him down some stairs."

"And if he survived," Haru says, without missing a beat, "he'd have you arrested. I don't want you going to jail for me, as much as I'd love to see him pin-wheeling down some steps."

Makoto sighs. "Well, for now, you stay with me. We'll get out of this somehow."

Her words are not lost on Haru, and her smile grows. Until it goes away. Because there's the other elephant in the room. "And, um, about the other thing?" She watches Makoto reach out and run her hand over the Buchimaru pencil case on her desk. When she opens her mouth to speak, Haru interjects with, "Do you think I'm crazy?"

Makoto's fingers hang over the case. Then, she smiles. "I would've thought so, a few weeks ago. A talking cat?" She shakes her head, and runs her other hand through her hair. "But I saw that same cat reading the other day. Texting, too. So, no. I don't think you're crazy, Haru." She giggles. "I _am_ starting to think we may both be, though."

"I've wondered that too," Haru tells her, relieved. Makoto grins back at her, and Haru knows she made the right decision.

"Tell it to me again," Makoto says. "Now that I'm fresh."

She goes over it all again. Makoto asks for a few clarifications, but otherwise, listens to the whole tale.

"It's a bit strange, isn't it?" She asks, at the end.

Haru waits for her to elaborate, but when she doesn't, asks, "Um, which part?"

"You were wandering around Shibuya at random, looking for Morgana. Then, Sugimura comes out of nowhere and attacks you. And _then_ , Morgana just appears and attacks _him?_ The timing is odd."

Something cold creeps into Haru's chest. "Mako-chan, are you suggesting that I was set up? That Sugimura was led there to-"

"No," Makoto states, emphatically. "No way. It doesn't fit. If the Phantom Thieves had wanted to hurt you, why did Morgana save you? I bet he was probably just as surprised as you were. Which means, if Morgana's arrival wasn't a giant coincidence, he was following you."

Haru twists around and lets her legs dangle off the bed. "But why would he be following me?"

Makoto makes a fist and rests her chin across it. "If Morgana has human level intelligence, and it seems that he does, _somehow_ , then he'd be the least conspicuous member of the Phantom Thieves to follow you. To follow anyone, really. He's small. He can hide easily. But you've got a point. Why would he be following you?" Makoto lapses into silence. Then, her eyes widen. "Your phone."

Haru meets her gaze, then flings herself towards the dresser, where she'd left her things the night before. She snatches up her smartphone, and brings it to Makoto.

"We know Takamaki did something to it," Makoto whispers, and Haru can tell she's not really talking to her, but sounding out the idea for herself. "So what if Morgana was following you to make sure it worked?"

Haru places the phone on the desk, and both girls begin to sift through it. There has to be, Makoto insists, something they missed.

A minute passes.

They stop.

"What's this?" Makoto asks.

A black and red icon sits in Haru's apps folder. A crimson eye with a black star for a pupil gazes out at them. "I don't know," Haru replies. "I've never seen it before. It wasn't there yesterday, when I checked." She shakes her head. "I would've noticed."

She hears her friend's dry swallow. "Well, let's take a look."

Haru nods, and taps the icon.

It expands until it covers half her screen, then fades.

The image of a microphone appears, and a single-word question hovers above it.

"Keyword?" Haru asks.

Makoto frowns. "It needs a password?" She picks up the phone and examines it. "There's no option to type it in."

"There's a microphone. Maybe we actually have to speak it?"

"Phantom Thieves," Makoto declares.

Nothing happens.

"Great," she mutters.

Haru leans over and brings her face closer to the screen. "What's that thing at the top. The little button that says, 'History?'" Makoto hands the phone back to her, and Haru clicks it. Something that looks very much like a list appears, but there's only one item at the top. "Mementos?" Haru sounds it out.

"Mementos," Makoto enunciates. "I think that's Latin. It has something to do with memories."

Haru sets the phone back down and the two girls stare at it.

Makoto shuts her eyes and rubs her temples. "Okay, let's go over everything one more time. After we spent the night trying to figure out what was done to your phone, you went home. Did you stop anywhere along the way?"

Haru shakes her head. "No. And nothing strange happened either. I texted you when I got back, and went to bed."

Makoto nods. "Right. That's about the time I realized we'd left everything for the Operation back in the Student Council Room."

Haru frowns. "I still don't know why you didn't call me when you realized that."

Makoto shrugs. "Both of us panicking over it wouldn't have done much good. And I told you the second I saw you this morning." Haru concedes this with a nod. "But then what? During the day, did anything happen?"

"No," Haru tells her. "I had that early morning run in with 'you know who,' but that was all. The only thing really different about yesterday was when I went to go search for Mona-chan, and Sugimura attacked-"

"Match Found," the phone says.

Their eyes snap to the phone.

#

Ryuji throws his hands into the air. "Dude, why the hell did you talk to her?"

Morgana glares up at him. "How was I supposed to know she could suddenly understand me?"

The boy looms down over the cat. "Because you're supposed to be the freakin' Metaverse expert, that's why!"

Ann steps between them. "Guys, calm down. We need to-"

"What was I supposed to do?" Morgana demands, manuvering around Ann's legs. "Let that creep hurt Haru?"

"No," Ryuji retorts. "But why'd you have to taunt the guy and shit?"

"I-"

" _Guys_ ," Akira snaps. Three sets of eyes turn to him. He reaches out and runs his finger across one of the alley's walls. He's beginning to suspect he's lived his whole life in this little crevice, and everything else has been some strange, surreal dream. "Knock it off. It's not Morgana's fault, Ryuji. It's mine." He regards each of them in turn. "It was my plan to send Morgana to spy on Haru and Makoto. I was the one who accidentally sent Haru to Mementos. And I was the one who told him to follow her yesterday. It's my fault."

The words leave his mouth and bounce within his skull. _My fault. This is all my fault_.

Morgana sits down on his paws, eyes downcast.

Ann sticks her hands in her pockets and leans against the wall.

Ryuji's foot beats a steady rhythm on the concrete. "So, what do we do?" He asks.

And for the first time in what feels like a very, very long time, Akira doesn’t know. His strategy is nothing but static, cathode ray snow blaring in his skull.

_Think_.

Nothing.

His words drip from his mouth like a loose faucet. “Whatever happens, don’t say anything. If Haru or Makoto corner you, don’t tell them anything.”

Shujin’s morning bell rings.

The color is gone from Ann’s face. “School’s starting, Akira! We need a plan.”

“If they come up to you, tell them to talk to me.” He rotates towards the school. Stares at the concrete.

“And what if they’ve…” Ryuji trails off.

“Already gone to the police?” Akira finishes for him. He smiles. “Then, it won’t matter if we say anything or not.” No one else says a thing. His friends gather their belongings and start their march towards the school.

To Akira, it feels very much like marching towards the gallows.

#

Makoto has never skipped a day of school in her life. Much less, called in and pretended to be sick. She is thankful her reputation affords her some benefit of the doubt, and Sae's permission is not sought by the main office. "Feel better, Niijima-san," the school's receptionist had said, and Makoto had squeaked out a, "Thank you very much," before hanging up. She'd had the sudden urge to use hand sanitizer afterwards.

Haru's call had seemed far less dramatic. Makoto cannot recall how often the girl has been absent, but she can - now that she thinks about it - distinctly recall days in which the class representative notated it.

When Haru hung up, a word had risen up in Makoto's mind, shuddering and shambling with dread.

_Truancy!_

Although, that's not quite true. It isn't as if they've no reason to skip school.

_Besides_ , Makoto tells herself. _There's a first time for everything_.

They weave themselves through the Shibuya Shuffle, and stop outside the Station. Haru searches the crowd and tries to hide it, hat pulled low over her face, bulky sweatshirt - despite the head - hiding the rest of her. They'd stopped at a department store just outside Makoto's place for some clothes. She figures, if Haru's going to stay with her for a while, they'll need to stock up on toiletries and whatnot soon.

She's still unclear how she'll explain this all to Sae. _She's hardly ever home. Maybe I could just hide her in my room._

Aware of how bad a plan this is, Makoto justifies it by the last bludgeoning, rapid-fire forty-eight hours. She may have gotten a solid sleep the night before, but she knows her tank is low.

"Where to?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods and leads them to the hulking mass of stairs descending into the pavement. They seperate themselves out from the pulsing mass of pedestrians, and step into the shadow of the overhang. Both girls are eighteen, and Makoto's hoping their lack of school uniforms won't attract attention. _Just two adults, minding our own business, definitely not skipping school or trying to unlock the secret of a mysterious app._

Nonetheless, she can't help but feel the judgement of every person that passes. _You shouldn't be here! You should be in school!_

Makoto smothers the bullshit and turns to Haru. Her friend's face is scrunched up in trepidation. "Um, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Resting a hand on Haru's shoulder, Makoto says, "We need to figure out what this app does, Haru. We're close. It all revolves around Shibuya, I just know it. If we know what it does, we'll know what 'Match Found,' means regarding Sugimura. And maybe we can use that to stop him."

She watches as determination refolds itself across Haru's face. "Right. Okay. The last time we were here, we spotted Mona-chan. Back when I _couldn't_ understand him. He ran down into this entrance, and we followed."

Makoto nods. "At the bottom of the steps, we split up. And I went to the Shibuya Underground, where I ran into Takamaki."

"And I went to check the service tunnels." Haru pauses. "I remember seeing Mona-chan. I remember calling you, but then... everything else is a blank."

"Right. You called me, the phone cut off, and Takamaki offered to help me look for you. We found you maybe ten minutes later, unconscious in one of the service tunnels. When you woke up, you said you'd had a dream, and then Takamaki offered to help us get home."

Haru holds her phone in the palm of her hand, as if weighing it. "And once there," she says. "She did something to this." She reaches out with an index finger and flips through her apps, pulling up the new one. "Which must have something to do with this app."

"So what're we missing?" Makoto asks. "Did she install or delete it? If she installed it, why did it take so long to show up? And why? If she deleted it, why did it show up again? And we still don't know why."

Haru frowns. "Maybe this is what lets me understand Morgana? If Morgana really was following me, maybe he was looking for an opportunity to steal my phone. Maybe he knew that this app would let me understand him, and he wanted to make sure I couldn't?"

Makoto frowns and thinks. "I'll bet it has something to do with that," she agrees. "But I feel like there's something we're not seeing. The app must have something to do with _why_ you can understand him. I can't see how it would let you understand him by itself."

"Well," Haru continues, and switches to the history tab. "What about this Mementos-thing?" Makoto watches as her friend's finger drifts down towards the button. Something suddenly seizes her, but before her brain can react, Haru presses the word, 'Mementos.'

"Beginning Navigation," the phone says.

The world shifts.

Her vision splotches and peels like burning film. The people go away. Rust cakes the station in twisted spires. The early June heat is supplanted by a heavy, thick fetor she can taste in her mouth. The air - if that's what it is - pushes down on her.

A step and her feet kicks up some translucent fluid that cannot be water. It hangs in the air a second longer than it should, and falls back to the dusted concrete.

"Mako-chan," Haru whispers. Makoto feels her friend's hand wrap through her own. "I've been here before. I dreamed this."

Makoto lifts her gaze to the sky. "No, Haru. I don't think you did."

#

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ohya snaps in a voice that makes it clear she's not. "I didn't realize I was someone you could brush off, like a girlfriend you don't want to see anymore."

Akira holds the phone away from his ear. In person, Ohya's voice can be a bit much. Over the phone, adding in the digital scramble, it can feel like a drill tunneling into his brain.

"I'm not-" He starts.

"What have you got going on anyway?"

"I have work," he tells her. He hates how his voice sounds. "I can't tonight."

"At the flower shop?" Ohya asks.

"Yes, at the flower shop," he says, mimicking her tone. "So I can't do anything tonight, and I'm not blowing you off. I want to help and I will. I just can't tonight."

"Fine." The call ends.

Akira shoves his phone back into his pocket. He lifts his glasses away from his face and rubs his eyes. People, with their eyes glued to their own phones and folded up newspapers, march their way across his vision. He pushes himself away from the Hachiko Wall of Shibuya Station, turns, and regards one of the interpretations of the faithful animal.

It stares down at him, stone eyes patient with a faint hint of hope.

"Oh, fuck you," Akira tells it, and shoulders his bag.

Haru had not been at school.

Neither had Makoto.

Akira's mind had sundered itself over the various possibilities encountering those two had implied. He had no expected to _not_ encounter them. The whole day, he'd been a basket case, nerves shot through the stratosphere. And here he was, on his way to his job, where he might or might not encounter Haru.

Morgana isn't with him. Things with the Phantom Thieves would move on, and the cat had his own assignment for the night.

Pulse like a thunderclap, he turns the corner towards Rafflesia, and finds Hanasaki standing there, sentinel still, smiling at the mall-goers.

"Good evening, Kurusu-kun," she says.

Akira walks up to her smiling. "Hi. Is Haru here yet?"

Hanasaki shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. I haven't heard from her today."

There's acid in his chest. Morgana had intervened in Haru's attack. Had stepped in to defend her. What if the guy had come back? What if he'd done something to Haru?

"Kurusu-kun?" Hanasaki asks, brows furrowed. "Are you alright?"

Akira nods. "Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry." He enters the shop and begins his shift.

Haru does not show.

He goes through his motions. Waters the plants. Feeds them nutrients. Speaks with customers. Puts together orders.

_If the guy did something to Haru, did he do something to Makoto too? Is that why_ she _wasn't at school either? Haru heard Morgana talk. She must've told Makoto about it. He's - more or less - the last piece of the puzzle. So what are they doing? Are they okay? Turning us into the police? What the_ hell _is going on?_

His shift ends. Hanasaki thanks him for his hard work. He hardly hears her.

Phone in hand, eyes to the screen, he marches towards the exit. There has to be something he can do. Some way of checking on them or finding out what they're doing without exposing himself.

He doesn't look up when he turns the corner, and collides into someone. He stumbles back, shaken, and begins to mutter, "I'm really sorry about that, I wasn't-" But then he looks up into the face of the person he's bumped into. "You?"

#

"Navigation Complete."

Makoto and Haru stumble out of the Metaverse - though they do not know its name - and come to a halt outside the station, eyes on the concrete sidewalk, hands on their knees. Breath coming in pants.

Pedestrians spare them little more than a few, disinterested glances, before continuing on their very many ways. The sky is dimmer than before.

_How long were we gone?_ Makoto wonders.

She looks to find Haru staring at her phone. The girl straightens, holding the device in both hands, and whispers, "Thank goodness that worked."

Makoto nods, takes a few deep breaths, and nods again. "So now, the question is, how did you get back last time?"

Haru's eyes flick to her. "Mako-chan-" Haru starts.

"Because." Makoto gestures with one hand as she speaks. "Because if you used your own phone, then why wasn't the app on it when we checked it later?"

"Makoto-"

"That would mean you got out another way, and it wouldn't explain why you were unconscious. It's possible someone else took you out and-"

"Makoto!" Haru squeaks.

Silent, she stares at her.

"What _was_ that place?" Her friend asks her.

Makoto shakes her head. "I've got no idea. Let's find some place to sit."

They find rest on one of the small garden walls surrounding the Hachiko Statue, and Makoto utilizes a nearby vending machine to buy two green teas.

She returns and hands one to Haru, who thanks her, and twists the bottle cap off.

"I think," Makoto says, as she sits back down. "Beyond a doubt, that the app is what Takamaki must've been looking for."

Haru takes a sip of tea, then says, "But it doesn't make sense for her to have put it on my phone."

"Maybe she didn't put it on," Makoto replies. "Maybe she tried to get rid of it, but didn't do a proper job of it."

"If that's true," Haru whispers, before taking another sip. "Then maybe you were right. Mona-chan was following me to make sure I wouldn't use it, and send myself to that weird place accidentally."

"But when Sugimura came at you," Makoto powers on. "It forced him to intervene. He didn't anticipate that you'd be able to understand him, so he didn't make an effort to hide it." She nods, each little step foward making more sense as she says it. "You couldn't understand him before, but Akira could. You said it yourself, it's like they've had conversations." She stands, exhaustion forgotten. "And you spotted Morgana at Shibuya Station the other day, and then, seconds later you go trasported to that place. It must've been by accident. That's why they knocked you out. They wanted to make sure you thought it was a dream or some kind of crazy hallucination. And going there must've _somehow_ installed or initiated the installation of the app on your phone. Which is why Takamaki came with us to my place. Which means Takamaki knows about the app, and knows what it can do."

She walks in small circles now. The pieces snap into place. "What if that other world is the key to everything?"

"Everything?" Haru asks.

"Daisuke told me he just felt _different_ when the Phantom Thieves changed his heart. Kamoshida wasn't blackmailed or threatened, according to the police. He just _changed_. And your phone, when we said Sugimura's name earlier, stated, 'Match Found.'" She walks up to Haru, reaches down, and lifts the phone free from her hands. Then she turns it around to show her. "What if _this_ is how the Phantom Thieves operate? What if the app lets them go to that other world and somehow they're able to change hearts?" She ponders this for another second. "They keep slipping up and making mistakes around us, but for all that, there's little physical evidence linking them to the Phantom Thieves. What if this is why? There's not much evidence in our world because they're not doing it in our world! They're using their phones to teleport to some sort of dreamscape with a magical cat that allows them to change hearts!" She looks at Haru and a grin breaks across her face. "That's it!"

Haru meets her gaze. Then, a smile cracks her lips. A small laugh worms its way out of her mouth, followed by a larger one. Then, an even bigger one.

The bone deep weariness reminds Makoto of its presence, but she cannot help it. She starts to laugh too.

The girls throw back their heads and laugh and laugh and laugh.

"Oh my god," Makoto says, when she finally settles down. "I think I need sleep. And a hot springs trip. I need to sleep in a hot springs. For a week."

"For a month," Haru counters. She reaches out, and Makoto hands her the phone back. "I don't know if I'm up for this, Mako-chan."

Makoto takes a seat next to her, and sips her tea. "It was one thing when we were just following Akira and his friends around. Now, we've got a talking cat, and a phone that can send you to an alternate reality, or whatever. It is a bit much."

Haru shrugs. "Just a bit."

"I never thought it would actually _be_ magic."

"I did," Haru says, a smirk on her face.

They hadn't gone deeper into the other world's Shibuya Station. The black of it had waited for them like a gullet, and from below, over the faint, rancid howl of some subterreanean wind, Makoto swore she could hear the soft whisper of chains.

They'd explored a small area around the station, but fear of getting lost kept them from going too far. Only the station itself seemed to promise some kind of discovery, but Makoto hadn't been willing to risk it. Haru had fiddled with the app for a while, and they'd made it back.

"Alright," Makoto says, as she feels some of the strength return to her legs. "We should get going."

"Going?" Haru asks.

Makoto nods. "We've got to get you some supplies, since you'll be staying with me. And since we're already at the mall, we may as well do it now."

Haru yawns. "Okay." She stands. Her balance shifts as she rises, and Makoto reaches out to steady her, but feels her own weight betray her. Haru stops herself before she falls. "Oh my," she mutters. "I think that place may have taken a lot more out of me than I suspected."

"Me too," Makoto replies. Her limbs feel very heavy. "Maybe we should just head back? Sis and I have a pretty good stockpile of toiletries anyway."

"I think that'd be for the best," Haru tells her. "I don't know if I could manage to do any shopping right now."

Makoto shoves herself to her feet, takes Haru's arm in hers and begins to turn. She takes a single step and bumps into someone's chest. She blinks, jumps back, and focuses on the face of the newcomer.

Her eyes widen.

"You?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for the well wishes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed today's chapter.
> 
> Here's the deal. I went back and reread a number of the chapters I've written since this one, and I hated them.
> 
> The major storybeats are all there, but there's little else. Everything feels very mechanical. Very subpar.
> 
> I'm going to need to redo all these. It's not back to the drawing board, just back to the drawing.
> 
> The next chapter will be up on Friday. I'll have more info then. Thank you very much for reading Crimson, I really appreciate it.


	67. Crossing Paths

6/8

 

Light unspools against pollen, and Akira watches it coil through the air. His head is filled with bees. Varnish and the smell of fresh paper. A clock’s chirping.

"Hey."

Years ago, a stray had materialized in his hometown, one afternoon, out of the blue. No collar. It’d run rabid, leaping erratically, teeth exposed in a frozen contortion, barking and yowling and howling. At nothing.

"Hey."

Eventually a truck hit it.

"Hey!"

Akira's attention crawls back to his surroundings, and he shifts in the chair to regard his homeroom teacher.

"What are you, high?" Kawakami asks.

"No."

"Well, whatever. Do you have any idea why we're here?"

Akira shrugs. "Maybe the jig is up."

"The jig? What jig?" She jabs a thumb at her own face. "My jig? It better not be my jig!"

The order had come that morning. "Akira Kurusu," Ushimaru-sensei had said. "Report to Principal Toko's office."

And here he is, sunk in this chair. Makoto went to Toko. Told the Principal everything. Toko, in turn, told the police. They'd be here any minute. They'd take him away. Take him back to the box. He’d tell them nothing. Just admit to doing it all himself. He wasn't sure who would take Morgana. If Ryuji did, they'd kill one another inside a week. Ann would _not_ feel comfortable with the cat in her room. And Yusuke...

_Maybe he'd be alright with Yusuke_.

"You didn't say anything, did you?" Kawakami asks, eyes wide and white.

Akira is too worn out. "I didn't,” he drawls. “I promise. This is probably about me."

Part of his mind roars at him to focus, to force the pieces together. A faint voice calls to him from across whatever void exists between his ears, _"There's always a way out."_

"If it's about you, why am I here?" Kawakami asks.

Akira looks at her. "If it's about _you_ , why am I here?"

She makes a face. "Cute."

The door _vrrooosh_ ’s open, and despite Akira shoots from the chair as if it were electric. Kawakami - he notices - does the same.

"Sit, sit," exclaims the old woman in a voice untaken by pretense, as she struts past them, hand waving in the air as though trying to scare off a pesky fly.

They have not even bowed yet, and Akira's body half-returns to the chair, half-executes a haggard dip.

He obeys her command, and slops down.

Kawakami's eyes, he sees as she follows his example, shift from Toko to himself, Toko to himself, back and forth. Steady as a metronome.

"So." Principal Toko watches them from behind her desk, hands clasped before her, a soft smile suggested across her face. "Here we are."

_Today is June Eighth_ , Akira recalls. _This all began on April Ninth. I couldn't even last two months._

"Here we are," Kawakami blurts, and adds, "Toko-sensei."

The women examine him, as if expecting the phrase to exit his mouth as well. His jaw slides open. "Here we-"

"I've been wanting this meeting for some time now," Toko interrupts, and Akira's 'are' fizzles into a murmur. "But sadly my schedule wouldn't permit. It and I are often at odds." She chortles invitingly.

Kawakamki's smile looks drunk. "Hah Hah Hah."

Akira just nods. _I know the feeling._

Toko sobers. "Allow me, to say this. Akira Kurusu, what with everything that… shall we say, _orbits_ you? Yes, that's fitting. What with all that orbits you, it was to my supreme delight I discovered how well you were doing here, academically."

_What's happening right now? What was that? What just happened?_

And from some deep, echoey part of himself, he hears Morgana's voice call up, _She just praised you, you idiot._

To which his thoughts reply, _That can't be right_.

His mouth rebels. "Thank you?"

Toko inclines her head, accepting. "When Kawakamki-sensei informed me of your test scores, I was impressed. Not everyone could transfer into a new school, under your circumstances, and succeed. It appears you've defied certain expectations."

"Sorry to disappoint," he blurts, then mentally skewers himself.

Kawakamki shoots him a morbid look, but Toko-sensei grins. Or maybe, it's better to say she smirks. "On the contrary, I appreciate having expectations shattered. It feels vindicating. Reminds me of why I got into this profession in the first place." She glances towards Kawakami. "And I'm sure your homeroom teacher agrees."

Kawakami's words sprint from her. "Uhhuhyep."

"But." The Principal raises a single, well-manicured finger into the air. "I've concerns. It seems your grades have started to slip. Not by much, mind you. But enough that it's noticeable."

_Is this seriously a meeting about my grades?_

_This is a meeting about my grades._

"Oh," he manages.

"Now, I was under the impression, from what Kawakami-sensei told me, that you are being tutored by the Student Council President?"

"That is true," Kawakami puts in, and sounds relieved to have something to say. "I set it up. I did that."

Toko frowns at her, and returns her attention to Akira. "Are the sessions still continuing?"

Akira tries to figure out how to explain to his new Principal that the study sessions with Makoto are no longer a thing because she agreed to investigate his supernatural group of vigilantes on behalf of the former Principal who either killed himself or was murdered by someone who may have the same powers he has, and that he lied to her about dating his other friend and _that_ friend slapped her in the face and now she certainly knows about his talking cat, but he isn't sure how to phrase any of that without raising suspicion or alarm so he just says, "No."

A long, _Hmmm_ , sound from Toko. Then, "I've meet Niijima-san. She doesn't seem to be the kind of person to stop things halfway. Was there some kind of falling out?"

Akira considers this, and nods. "Yeah. That's a good way of putting it."

"Seriously?" Kawakami asks. She looks at Toko. "I had no idea."

The Principal gives her a sympathetic grin. "Sadly, our charges rarely confide in us. Given the Kamoshida incident, it's hardly surprising. However," and she lightly slaps her hand on the desk, "I will _not_ have your grades slip any further, Kurusu-kun. And you will not _let_ your grades slip any further." She leans back. "To this end, I suggest tutoring sessions. Kawakami-sensei, I'm sure you're more than up to the task."

"Eh?" Kawakami asks. Her face falls apart.

Akira jumps in. "I will not let my grades slip further, Principal Toko. The thing is, I've got a couple of jobs during the week. So, it might be hard to set these sessions up."

Toko shrugs. "I don’t see why. What days?" Akira tells her. "Alright then, let's settle on Fridays. How about that?"

Kawakami's face reddens as the seconds march on. "Uh," she says.

"Uh," Akira says.

"Is there some reason this won't work?" Toko asks, an unhappy frown on her lips. "Kurusu, you just told me your work schedule. And Kawakami-sensei, I’m not aware of any additional responsibilities you have, outside school."

"That is true," Kawakami intones, shaking her head. "I definitely don't do other things after school."

Toko claps her hands. "It's settled then. Please keep me informed on the progress." She stands. Akira and Kawakami mirror the movement, though Akira feels like he's in a daze.

_Good news: I'm not going to jail. Yet._

_Bad news: Now I have_ another _thing to deal with during the week._

"If you'll excuse me," Toko says, gesturing to the door. “I've some calls to make. Please enjoy the rest of your day."

Both bow and stagger out the exit.

Akira begins a mechanical trudge back to class, when Kawakami seizes his arm. "Hey," she hisses. She spins him towards her and releases him.

"What?" He asks.

"Friday's do _not_ work for me," she whispers.

He thinks asking her why, but then remembers what she was doing last Friday. "Oh."

"Yeah," she spits. "'Oh.' We're going to need to work something out. Meet me after school today, and we'll-“

"I can't."

She blinks. Her face is first blank, then a storm. "Excuse me?"

"I can't meet you after school. I've got an appointment."

Kawakami glances down the empty hall, and satisfied they are alone, throws her hands into the air. "I would think this takes priority, Kurusu!"

Akira half turns from her. "What about tomorrow?" He asks. "We've got that school trip to the television studio, right? We can talk then."

"I've got to watch the entire class.” Her voice is a low rumble. "We won't get a chance."

He digs his thumbs into his temples. "Well, I can't talk today. So, maybe before we leave for the studio or maybe after or something. I don't know."

Akira watches as her jaw revolves one, two, three soundless circuits. Then, she snaps, "Fine. But we will talk _tomorrow_. Don't even think about blowing me off." She jerks her head down the hall. "Get to class."

Akira turns, free at last, and tramps away.

#

But of course, he isn’t done yet.

Tracing invisible lines between floor tiles, Akira slushes his way through Shujin. He hears a door open and shut behind him, and knows Kawakami has stepped into the faculty room. He is, blessedly – in the _Thank God_ kind of way – alone.

Except he isn’t.

“Akira.”

The voice pitches his mind overboard. It careens and spider-webs and claws grooves into his brain.

He wonders if perhaps, he is just very tired.

With his luck, though?

His stare travels over the floor, past her dark shoes, her bare ankles, up her black leggings to the conservative Shujin skirt, higher over the white, button-down summer blouse, and skitter across her pale, shapely neck, lips he almost kissed once, and settle on the unmistakably red eyes of Makoto Niijima.

She stands in the hall, poised, somehow always poised. Hands at her side, compressed into fists. Her face is oh so very serious.

Dimly, Akira is aware he should say something to mark this moment. Something profound. Something gut-wrenching. Something for the history books.

Instead, all he manages is, “Hi.”

Makoto’s brows constrict. Evidently, she’d expected something more too. She removes herself a step, angling away from him. She nods towards the stairwell. “Come with me.” Her back to him, she walks away. She doesn’t look back.

_Typical_.

He follows.

Makoto ascends to the third floor, and keeps climbing. “You know,” Akira calls up. “Someone once told me the roof was off limits.” She doesn’t respond, save to fold around the corner above him. Frowning, he lifts his knees a bit quicker, and rounds the bend as the sound of the door shoving open ricochets down to him.

When he reaches the top, Makoto is already outside, eyes searching, patrolling, ensuring their solitude. Akira waits for her to complete the inspection, and shoves his hands in his pockets. Then he takes them out, decides against this, and puts them back in. Now that this moment is finally here, he is a bit disappointed by how weightless it all feels. He’d anticipated his mind firing on all piston-pumping cylinders, but instead he’s just fidgeting. Like the mild and meek schoolboy he’s pretended to be all this time.

Makoto achieves apparent approval, and turns to him. “Here we are,” she says.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today,” Akira observes, then frowns. “Well, third if you count Kawakami-sensei.” Makoto doesn’t reply. She stares at him, eyes hard but lips pursed, as if unsure of herself. He seizes on it. “Are you going to say anything else?” He asks, voice mild. “I have a hard time believing you came up here with no plan.”

“Why were you,” and she pauses, stiffens, and says, “in Principal Toko’s office?”

“ _That’s_ what you want to ask me? Seriously?” She lifts her head a bit, expectant. But fuck that. “Wow. You’re not even beating around the bush. We’re not even on land right now.”

“Was that supposed to be a witty repartee?” Her voice is bored, but Akira knows she’s anything but.

He shrugs. “I’m not completely sure what a ‘repartee’ is, but probably.”

She blows air out her lips in a faint, _psh_ noise, and says, “I’d think you could do better. Why were you in there?”

“Why does that matter, Makoto? Why are we talking about my trip to the Principal’s office?” He feels a smirk cross his face. “Maybe instead, we should talk about yours’. Back when everyone’s favorite Principal Pudding was still with us.” Makoto winces and something crosses her face. Something that looks very much like fear. _Is she… afraid of me?_ Akira finds his mouth working before his brain can process this possibility. “It was about my grades.”

“Your… grades?”

“Believe it or not,” he says. “I’ve been under some stress lately, so they’ve been slipping. Principal Toko doesn’t want that to happen. She was pleasantly surprised when I did so well on the exams last month.”

“Oh,” Makoto says, and a smiles hitches a corner of her mouth. “Congratulations.”

Akira raises a brow. “On my grades slipping? Gee, thanks.”

She scowls. “Not that. You know I meant your test scores, and-“ She stops when she sees the smile on his face. “Oh, knock it off.”

He lets it fade. “Fine. So why don’t we get to why we’re really up here?”

Makoto closes her eyes. She takes a long, deep breath. Then another. Then another. When she looks at him again, he sees the same iron determination he’s come to recognize in her. And despite everything that’s happened, he finds it still stirs something in him. “I wanted to speak to you in person. Not over the phone. Not by a text. Face to face. We do need to talk, about everything.” Akira begins to phrase, ‘everything,’ like a question, but she cuts across him. “Stop it. You know what I’m talking about. But we can’t discuss it here.” She gestures to the roof. “There’s a chance someone could be listening.”

Akira starts to growl out, “Welcome to-“ then stops himself.

“Afterschool then,” she declares. “I was thinking we-“

“Can’t.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t. As in the opposite of can. I have an appointment.”

She narrows her eyes and Akira feels the June heat turn to ice. “I would think this would take priority.”

He chuckles. “Second time I’ve heard that today too.” _Boom! One liner. Turn and go!_ He spins around, and raises a hand in farewell. “Come find me tomorrow and we’ll work something out.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, right. We’ll be at the television studio all day. Guess I’ll see you there.” He turns back to her with his best thin smile. “I know that’s not what you’d prefer, but what can you do, right?” Then, he twists himself around, gives her what he hopes comes across as a sarcastic bow, turns towards the door, and saunters away.

#

_Oh hell no._

Makoto marches – no, _tears_ \- her way across the rooftop, hand extended. Her footfalls strike like atom bombs, leaving dusty mushroom clouds in her wake.

_Hell no. Not after everything. Not after all this_. He doesn’t get to just play the wannabe tough, mysterious guy and wander off. _Screw that!_

Her chest runs hot with gasoline, her mind speeding past any sensible speed limit. _Damn the secrecy! Damn the maybes! Damn Akira Kurusu and his smooth-talking bullshit!_ She’s done. “Hold it!” She snarls, and catches his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet.” She yanks him back towards her, and as he stumbles into the turn, his bag comes loose from his shoulder. It overturns, slaps down onto the rooftop, unclips, and its contents spill free.

“What the hell-“ He starts, but she closes the distance between them and never mind her heart is beating like it’s about to explode, and never mind that she feels the flush spread across her like a skin condition, and never mind she considers for the nanoest of nanoseconds grabbing his stupid asshole collar and just kissing his stupid _fucking_ face, she shoves her finger right between his eyes and shouts, “ _Information exchange!_ ”

Silence stretches until a cool wind cuts across the roof. Makoto feels it in her hair. Overhead, the sun disappears behind a cloud, and their little shared space is bathed in shadow.

“Huh?” Akira asks.

“Information. Exchange.” She watches him try to blink away his confusion. “I have information you need,” and the dam feels like it’s about to burst, but she caulks it, and it holds. “Information about the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira’s face darkens. She never takes her eyes off his, so she can see the gears start to lurch. _Even now, he’s looking for a way out of it._ Or maybe this was what he wanted. For her to admit it. To push her so much that she would just blurt it right out. _Well, who gives a shit at this point?_

“What kind of information?” He finally asks.

She smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked.”

_Stupid smug… bastard!_ He couldn’t even let her have this. “I’ll give it to you. But in return for what I know, you give me the truth.” She steps away from him, but keeps her glare strong. “All of it.”

His eyes remain the same, but a smile returns. “And what happens if you don’t like what you hear?”

Makoto will not look away. “I’ll guess we’ll see.”

Akira breaks the gaze first. He sighs, and bends down to pick up his possessions. Makoto steps back to give him some room, and her eyes do a quick inventory. Who knows? Maybe he keeps some Phantom Thief operating device in his bag.

Her eyes settle on the book.

_”Thieves.”_

_”Sorry?”_

_”The book. It’s about thieves.”_

_”Seriously?”_

She cannot say why, but her eyes sting. Without saying anything, she turns away, but Akira’s voice finds its way up to her. “Per your recommendation.” She doesn’t reply, and he offers up nothing else. Not what he thinks of it. Not even if he likes it. However, she couldn’t help but see the red bookmark, buried in the pages, inching out at the halfway point. Makoto considers telling him about how sad the story gets. Considers revealing the fate of the Gentlemen Bastards. But she can’t bring herself to.

Akira cleans up his mess, and stands, bag repositioned on his shoulder. “You know,” he says to her, as he heads for the stairs. “You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

Makoto shoots out before he reaches the door, and she slides into the space offered. “I’ll go first, make sure the coast is clear,” she mutters. She descends the first few steps and glances back at him. “Oh, and by the way.” Akira tries to look disinterested. “I’ve been to Mementos.” She takes supreme pleasure in the nauseous look that crosses his face as he steadies himself in the doorframe. “Yeah,” she says. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

#

“You know, it’s funny.” Takemi swivels about in her chair, lab coat rustling. “I distinctly remember saying, the last time you were here, that this was _categorically_ , not a place for you and your friends to stow away in.”

The death in her eyes is focused, not at Akira, but at the young man he has dragged to her clinic. A young man Akira is less than pleased to be dealing with. A young man whose present obliviousness can only be explained by the laser stare he gives the good doctor’s legs.

_Can’t blame him_ , Akira thinks. _They’re nice legs._

“You,” Takemi snaps, and even her sex appeal isn’t enough to distract from that tone. The boy does a little half-jump, and looks petrified. “What’s your story?”

“My, um, story?” Kaoru asks.

“That’s right,” Takemi says, her voice a frustrated purr. “Why are you here?”

Akira begins to say, “I told you that-“ but Takemi cuts him off with, “I’m asking him.”

“There’s no story,” Kaoru mutters. “My Dad just told me to go with Akira. He said he would be back later.”

“Back later from where?”

Kaoru shrinks in on himself, and Akira keeps back a sigh. “He didn’t say,” Kaoru tells her. “He just told me it was really important to not be at the store, or at home.”

Takemi spreads her arms wide. “I’m still not sure why you’re _here_.”

It had been Iwai. Akira had turned the corner in Shibuya, just after leaving Rafflesia, and bumped square into him. “You?” he had said, and Iwai had seized his shoulder in one meaty hand and said, “Come with me.”

The man had nearly dragged him to some back alley off Shibuya, a slim slice of pockmarked concrete, filled with dirty water from an earlier rain Akira must’ve missed during his shift. He had asked Iwai what he wanted, and Iwai had – more or less – told him to babysit Kaoru the following night.

Akira had asked how Iwai knew where he was, and Iwai said he knew how to keep tabs on people, which didn’t alarm Akira in any way. Nope.

Then, Iwai had said that it was very important that Akira take Kaoru someplace safe. He’d emphasized ‘safe.’ “Someplace I don’t know. Someplace Kaoru doesn’t know. Not your home. Not around Shibuya. Take him out of Shibuya.”

What was going on? Why was Iwai asking him to do this? Was Kaoru in danger? All questions Akira asked.

“I’m asking you,” Iwai growls. “Because you’re not involved.” Involved in what? “Doesn’t matter. You’re not involved, but you’re involved in something. And _somehow_ you’ve managed to not get caught yet. Which means you’re cleverer than you look. But given our history of interactions, you’re definitely not as clever as you think you are. And that actually works for me. I want you to take Kaoru for the night. Take him someplace safe. Don’t think about it too hard. Don’t come up with some elaborate plan. Someplace you think is safe that isn’t your home or the home of any of your whiz kid friends. I’ll text you when I’m done with my meeting, and you bring him back to me.”

Akira, had naturally, protested. Given the impending doom Haru’s discovery talk was sure to bring down on him, he wasn’t sure any location within a five mile radius of himself could be deemed ‘safe.’ He phrased this differently, of course.

“Don’t want to do it?” Iwai asks, then shrugs. “Fine. Don’t. But say sayonara to the tech. To using my store as your own personal pawn shop.” And as he’d spoken, Akira could hear the cracks in his voice. And seeing Iwai rattled and panicked was very off-putting.

“Okay,” Akira told him, reflecting the shrug. “I’ll do it. For the tech. I’ve got work tomorrow night anyway, I can bring him-”

“No. _Not_ Shinjuku either. Too many eyes. Take him someplace with less eyes. A lot less eyes.”

And that had been that.

He’s done as instructed. A safe place. A place that wasn’t his home, or the home of any of his friends. A place outside Shibuya and Shinjuku.

Takemi chews on her lower lip for a moment before she says, “It’s a slow night,” and Akira has to bite back the comment, ‘Isn’t every night?’ before Takemi continues with, “You two can hole up in one of the exam rooms. I’d rather not have you out here in the lobby. If someone does come in, I don’t want them thinking this is a daycare.”

Kaoru looks offended, but Akira bobs his head and says, “Thanks,” before laying a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and gently pushing him towards the door. He may be doing a good thing, but that doesn’t mean he has to be ecstatic about it.

Tomorrow, he has a school trip.

Tomorrow, he has to speak with Kawakami about that whole thing.

Tomorrow, he has to meet with Makoto about that whole _other_ thing.

_How the hell did she get into Mementos?_ But the answer was, naturally, via Haru’s phone. Akira steers Kaoru down the hall. Presumably, Makoto and Haru had skipped school yesterday in order to figure out just what could and could not be done with the app. _If they’ve figured it all out, why haven’t I been arrested yet?_ If Makoto was working against the Phantom Thieves, and she had the hard, physical evidence that showed they could change hearts, why was he still walking free? Did she want a straight confession? And what was this ‘information’ she claimed to have?

_Either way, it all comes out tomorrow_. He didn’t have a way out. With everything Makoto and Haru had, the ball rested firmly in their court. If Akira denied the meeting, they could just hand everything over to the cops.

Calling Lala makes him anxious, and he apologizes for the short notice, but her reply is warm and understanding and so relief soon spreads through him like a stain. Which sucks, because he’s lied to her. Told her he had to go to the doctor’s. Technically, not a lie. Still, it stings when she asks if he’s alright. When she reminds him to get some rest. He thanks her, and hangs up.

“I’m sorry,” Kaoru mutters, from where he sits on the exam table.

“For what?” Akira asks, without looking at him. He checks to see if he’s gotten any additional messages. Nothing.

“For making you miss work, I guess?”

“It’s fine.” He replaces his phone in his pocket, and reaches down for his bag. Homework will be a welcome distraction from everything.

“Um,” Kaoru says, as Akira heaves out his notebook. “Kurusu?”

Akira sets the book on the desk, and flips it open. “Yeah?”

“Do you know what my dad is up to right now?”

Akira pauses, pencil in hand, poised above a page covered with math problems. “No, I don’t.”

“But this is weird, right? I mean, it’s pretty strange that he’d just suddenly have to go to this meeting and won’t tell me anything about it and everything. And, like, why can’t I go home? Or wait in the store for him?”

What can he say? It’s not as if Akira knows the answers. He knows precious little about Munehisa Iwai. The man owns and operates an airsoft shop. He has a thirteen year old son. He knows about all kinds of illegal things, and has connections in the underworld. Akira has assumed him something of a retired criminal. But what does that mean? There are many types of criminals. Akira is a criminal. Takemi – given her illegal experiments– is too. What was it that had Iwai so freaked out?

He sets the pencil down, and faces him. “I don’t know, Kaoru. But your dad seems really smart. And tough. I don’t think anything bad will happen. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

The boy doesn’t smile, like Akira hoped he would. He kicks his feet back and forth, and stares at them, as if hypnotized. “My dad doesn’t talk about things. From when he was young. He just clams up or tells me to be quiet. He can be such a… jerk, sometimes.”

A knock and the door opens. Takemi enters, lab coat flowing. She shuts the door and leans against it, arms crossed. “Any idea how long it’ll be before your dad returns from his meeting?” Her voice has an edge to it. “I’d been planning on calling it an early night.” She looks first at Kaoru, who bites his lip, then to Akira, who shrugs. She huffs. “Well, what about your mom? Is she at work or-“

“I don’t have a mom,” Kaoru says. It is short, clear, and final. Behind the glasses, his eyes are harder than Akira’s ever seen them.

Takemi frowns. “Okay then. Sorry about that.” She makes a show of checking her nails. Akira notices the black polish looks freshly applied. “So, just you and your dad, huh?” Kaoru nods. “And you have no idea where he is right now?” A shake of Kaoru’s head. “You must be pretty worried.” Kaoru opens his mouth but Takemi speaks quickly, “Why not go to your girlfriend’s?”

Kaoru’s cheeks redden. “Huh? What girlfriend?”

Takemi levels a confused gaze at him. “Your girlfriend, Kaoru-kun. You have one, right?”

Kaoru shakes his head. “Uh, n-no I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She tilts her head, a small smile on her face. “But you’re so handsome. I’d think the girls would be lining up to go out with you.” Kaoru stammers out something that doesn’t resemble any known human language, and Takemi nods sagely. “I see. They’re probably just nervous. It’s understandable.”

“I-I-“ Kaoru looks as if his mind has broken, caught in a loop. Akira rolls his eyes. _Smooth, Doc._

“Well, you should ask Akira for advice,” Takemi puts in.

“Huh?” Kaoru asks.

“Huh?” Akira asks.

“He’s a regular Casanova.”

Kaoru turns to him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“N-no,” Akira retorts. He looks at the boy and tries to convey as much sincerity into his words as he can. “I don’t know where she’s getting this from, Kaoru. It’s-“

“I thought you were dating Ann-chan,” Takemi mutters, her tone amused and sly. “That blonde girl I see you with.”

Kaoru nods vigorously. “I’ve seen her! She comes by the shop with him sometimes.” Her mouth hangs open, even as he speaks. “You’re _dating_ her?”

“No,” Akira shouts, shaking his head. “I am not doing that. I am not dating Ann.”

“So you must be dating Makoto,” Takemi puts in.

Akira freezes. “How do you know about her?”

“You talked about her incessantly, last time you were here.” She puts her finger to her chin and gazes thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Let’s see, there was another name too. Haru, I think. You said you liked her hair. Oh, and you mentioned someone named Ohya too.”

Akira feels the blood rush from his face. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never mentioned them.”

“Wow,” Kaoru whispers. “You’ve got _four_ girlfriends?”

“I don’t even have one!” Akira shouts, panicking now. _How the hell does she know all those names, and-_

“Akira’s somewhat shy too,” Takemi explains. “I’m only able to get this info out of him when he’s helping me with my experiments.”

Akira groans. _Of course. Who the hell knows what else I’ve said when I’m on that shit_.

 

 

“He flirts with me a lot too,” Takemi tells Kaoru, and wink at him conspiratorially. “So thanks for being here. It can be exhausting to deal with him when he’s in ‘lady killer’ mode.”

“I don’t have a ‘lady killer’ mode!” Akira yells at her. He hears the telltale sound of a zipper, and turns to see Kaoru opening his backpack. The boy pulls out a notebook, and takes a pen from his pocket, which he clicks. “What’re you doing?” Akira asks.

“Taking notes,” Kaoru exclaims, enthusiastically. Takemi throws back her head and laughs.

#

The room smells of cologne. Iwai can't tell if it's cheap or not. Never touched the stuff himself.

Three men sit in the room, if he counts himself. Two stand near the door, silent and still as boards, but vibrating with the kind of violent energy he's soon too often in life.

Tsuda sits to his left, ramrod straight, face guarded.

Across from Iwai, the third man, Junya Kaneshiro, regards him.

His sleeves are rolled up to his biceps, showcasing the tattoos, but Iwai gets the impression he isn't peacocking. It's just a little warm in the room.

A pair of glasses and a dark, muddy bottle of whiskey stands guard on the table between them.

"How old is he?" Kaneshiro asks, voice soft and smooth.

Iwai knows he is anything but. "Thirteen," he answers honestly.

Kaneshiro smiles. It doesn't seem malignant at first glance. Keep staring though, and you'll soon see what’s looking back at you. The man leans forward, unscrews the bottle, and fills the glasses with a healthy dose. "Should drink to that. Thirteen's a good age."

Iwai shrugs. "Any age is good when you're above ground."

Kaneshiro slides one of the glasses towards him. "That's funny." He doesn't laugh.

Iwai lifts it up. "You're gonna make me remember my drinking problem," he growls out, trying to sound at ease.

_You're overdoing it_.

This time, Kaneshiro does laugh. It's a low, deep chuckle. He takes up his own glass, and lifts it. "To being above ground, brother."

Iwai nods, tilts his glass, and takes a pull. The whiskey bites his mouth like a razorblade, but it's nothing he hasn't had before.

Kaneshiro sips. Sets the glass down. "Tsu-chan here tells me he seems like a good kid. Capable."

"Actually," Iwai replies. "Kid's a klutz."

"Not a nice thing to say about your own."

"Not like I called him retarded. Kid's smart. Just not very coordinated. He's got a head for books." He rolls his eyes around the room, confident Kaneshiro would understand the look. "Not for any of this shit.”

Kaneshiro's silence stretches. Then, he says, "I'm sure we can change that."

Iwai fights to keep from swallowing. To buy some time, he takes another swallow.

"Look," he says, and holds his free hand up, palm out. "He's not in this world. I left to make sure he wouldn't be. No offense, but I don't want him to have any part in this."

Kaneshiro's shrug is light, almost playful. "I'm not offended. You want what's best for your son. So do I." Iwai opens his mouth, but Kaneshiro shakes his head. "Don't misunderstand me. You seem to think I'll treat him like one of those bozos we recruit from the high schools." He spreads his arms wide. "But the son of Munehisa Iwai? I'd take him under my wing. He'd be my..." He snaps his fingers a few times, then glances towards the two men by the door. "Nanashi, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Ward?" One of the men suggests, without moving.

Kaneshiro snaps one final time and grins. "That's it. He'd be my ward. Under my protection. I wouldn't expose him to any danger."

And Iwai knows that even if that were true, and even if this wasn't some elaborate game for Kaneshiro to take his son hostage, that he'd rather stuff the kid in a box and toss him out a plane onto a deserted island than let him learn one thing from this man.

He's heard the stories. Seen some of their truths written across the streets of Shibuya. Kaneshiro infects this town like disease, like a cancer. And just like a cancer, every day he grows larger.

"I'm sorry," Iwai replies. "But no."

Kaneshiro's smile never flickers, never falters. He takes a deep breath. "You know, I think you've lingered too long on the outside, brother. You've forgotten just what you can have."

He lifts his gaze back to the two men. "Muzaki," he calls.

The second man turns, opens the door, and steps out of the room. Ten seconds later, he reenters.

His hand holds stiff the forearm of a girl. She is maybe seventeen. Maybe. Black hair is done up in some style Iwai assumes is modern, but it feels very haphazard, as if someone who hadn't quite known how to do it, had done it. A pink bow is tied through it.

Her clothes are a typical sexy take on a schoolgirl uniform. Dark plaid skirt yanked higher than it needs to be. White blouse, tied together, rather than buttoned, revealing the cleavage underneath. High heels _clickclack_ their way across the floor.

Iwai looks up into the girl's eyes. They swim in a foggy pool, faint and faraway. He knows these eyes well. These are the eyes that only know how to look for one thing.

The next fix.

As if the track marks on her arm weren't a dead enough give away.

"What's your name?" Kaneshiro asks.

The girl sways in Muzaki's grasp, then answers, dreamily. "Eiko."

Kaneshiro turns back to him. "What'd you say, brother? Maybe giving Eiko a spin will change your mind."

Iwai doesn't let himself glance at Tsuda, who has been silent the entire meeting. He hopes Kaneshiro isn't as familiar and cunning as he seems, because Iwai can almost feel the disgust bleeding off his friend.

"As a general rule," Iwai says. "I try to only bang girls that know what planet they're on."

Kaneshiro's smile fades. "Each and owns, I suppose." He glances back up at the Muzaki, and jerks his head towards the door.

Wordlessly, Muzaki drags Eiko out. He returns a few moments later, and resumes his post.

"I think we're in danger of not settling this," Kaneshiro tells him, and his voice is an octave deeper. "But let me be clear. All of the things you're talking about. All the reasons you've listed. I fail to see how any of it is my problem."

Iwai shakes his head. "I can't give you Kaoru, Kaneshiro.” He wishes for all the whiskey in the world to keep his tongue behind his teeth, but he plays the only card he has left. “But, I know this other kid. He may be more of what you’re looking for."

#

Ryuji jams as much of the paper into the garbage bin as he can. Satisfied, he takes off the gloves – which peel from his skin with a soft _pop_ \- and tosses them on top of the pile. The backdoor opens, and Ann steps out from his house, more crumbled up wads held in her arms. “You need to clean your room more,” she snaps, and carts them over.

“Throw ‘em in,” he replies.

Ann does. She makes a show of dusting off her hands, as Ryuji stomps the heap down, and coats it with a squirt from the lighter fluid bottle. “I think that’s everything.”

Ryuji nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“You okay?”

He shrugs. “It’s just kind of sad, you know?” He jabs his chin towards the bin. “This is all the original Phantom Thieves shit.”

Ann gifts him an amused smile. “Yeah, but it’s mostly paper scraps, right?”

He scowls. “I know that. But it’s the crap I used to make the first calling card. It should be like, in a museum or something.”

Her grin expands as she reaches out and pats his shoulder. “Maybe you should’ve given them to Yusuke. He could’ve used them in some art deco piece, or something.”

Ryuji returns a frown. “Art what?”

Ann giggles. “Never mind.”

He turns back to the mound. “Guess it’s time, huh?”

“Are, uh, you sure it’s okay for us to be doing this out here?” Ann asks, glancing back towards the house as Ryuji pulls the matchbook from his pocket.

“Mom’s working late tonight,” he tells her as he strikes one. “Long as we clean up, it’ll be fine.”

Ann nods, as Ryuji lobs the stick onto the pile, and watches as their small cache of evidence goes up in a tiny flame. It was Akira’s idea. In case the meeting with Makoto and Haru went south.

“Ryuji?” Ann asks.

“Yeah?”

She doesn’t reply right away. “We’re going to be okay, right?”

He looks at her, and whatever she sees on his face isn’t enough to convince her, so he bulldozes it with the biggest grin he can muster. “Course we will!”

Ann nods, and steps closer to him. Without a word, she wraps one of his arms in her own, and rests her head on his shoulder. Ryuji’s brain, unable to process this, keeps his eyes pinned to the fire.

Together, they watch the evidence burn.

And burn.

And burn.

And burn.

“Uh, Ryuji?” Ann asks as the flame climbs higher. “How much lighter fluid did you use?”

“Enough,” he replies.

She lets him go and Ryuji feels a pang in his chest he doesn’t understand and she picks up the bottle, eyes widening. “This is a new bottle Ryuji. And it feels half-empty!” She reads the label. “It says, ‘Use Conservatively.’”

“I did,” he counters. “I sprayed a bit on for every layer of shit.”

Her jaw drops. “That’s ‘Liberally,’ you idiot!”

The fire heightens, and a fresh wave of heat pulses over his face. “Oh. Oh shit.” He inches his way towards the flame. _No big deal_ , he tells himself.

“What’re you-“ Ann starts, but then Ryuji hikes his leg up and brings it down into the center of the fire. Again and again and again, in a relentless stomp.

It took all of three seconds for him to realize it wasn’t working. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he mutters, as he pulls his leg free.

The fire sticks to his pant leg like pigment. “OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!”

Ann gasps a, “Ryuji,” and Ryuji replies with, “Fire Extinguisher,” and gestures wildly at the house. Ann disappears through the backdoor, as Ryuji hops through his backyard, swatting at the flames and trying desperately to remember the steps to ‘Stop, Drop, and Roll.’

Ann returns in the middle of one of his curses, red extinguisher in hand, and she holds it up to read the directions. “Okay, so first I-“

“Do it already!” Ryuji shrieks.

“Give me a second!” Ann hollers back, eyes ricocheting across the plastered on instructions. “Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it.”

Ryuji misses what it is she does, but a second later a thick stream of white sputters out and coats his leg. He drops to the ground and pats at it, petrified the fire might leap back up any second. When it’s clear he’s safe, Ann turns the extinguisher to the still burning pile of evidence, smothers it, and drops the extinguisher.

She stomps over to him, and looms over him, hands on her hips. Ryuji lays back on the earth, looks up at her, and starts to laugh.

Ann shakes her head. “That wasn’t…” She trails off as Ryuji’s laughter doesn’t stop. He sees her smile first, then her eyes narrow, and then she’s doubled over, gasping for breath too. She lowers herself to the ground alongside him, heedless of the white foam that cakes the ground, and stares up at the sky.

“You are such an idiot,” she tells him.

Her hand finds his, and seizes it. It is sticky with the extinguisher’s foam. She holds it anyway.

“I know,” he tells her.

#

Iwai stalks down the Yongen-jaya street, oblivious to the bubbling Tokyo heat. Beneath his jacket, sweat cements his shirt to skin, but this is not why he feels disgusting.

Kaneshiro had listened to his proposal, and dismissed with a bitten off, "I'll think about it."

He spits into a gutter he passes and turns down the street he'd told Akira to meet him at.

A voice calls, "Dad." He winces. Kaoru jogs towards him, hand raised in greeting, as if he didn't already see him.

Shuttered storefronts line the road. Streetlights offer little islands of illumination. In one of those, stands Akira, a worn and unsettling look on his face.

Kaoru stops next to him and starts babbling something, but Iwai keeps his eyes on Akira. "What's wrong?" He demands.

"He's worried," comes a voice, feminine, and harsh but smooth. "About what I'm going to say to you." Iwai stiffens, and his eyes search the dark, settling on a silhouette beneath an awning

It unfolds into a woman in a leather jacket tossed over a spectacularly short dress. He can't make out the color. Her dark hair's short, her heels are long, and her legs are the right kind of even longer.

Her eyes are stilletos executing one long thrust into his chest.

"So, uh," Akira mumbles, and rubs the back of his head. "This is-"

" _I'm_ ," she cuts in, "the complete stranger you left your son with for a few hours."

Iwai drags his gaze from her and levels it at Akira. "I told you to take him somewhere safe."

The woman slithers between them. "He _was_ safe. But I'd like to know where you were for all this time, that you felt it necessary to leave your son with-"

He sets a hand on Kaoru's shoulder, and drags him backwards. "None of your business."

Her face contorts into a deeper glare. "Wrong answer." Her heels on the pavement sound like bones breaking as she pursues them.

He slows his retreat, and tries to embarrass her away. "Don't they teach girls nowadays to be less clingy?"

This does not have the intended effect. "Keep talking," she growls. "It'll just hurt more."

He doubles down. "Look at you. You're getting me fired up."

"Some role model you've got here, Kaoru-kun," she says. Her pace has not slowed. She is a bare meter from them.

"Uh, dad..." Kaoru starts, but then the woman's hand shoots out, reaching for Iwai's jacket.

He reacts without thinking, like he always has, and snatches her arm before she can snag him. He lifts her arm a bit higher, and she closes the distance between with a _clomp clomp_ of her heels.

He glares down at her.

She glares up at him.

Neither blinks.

Then Akira shows up and ruins everything. "Okay," he says, popping up alongside them. "That's probably good for an introduction, right? Let's all just... not look like we want to murder one another." A strange expression crosses his face. "I mean, I think you two want to murder one another, but the looks you guys are-"

In synch, both turn to him and snarl, "Back off!"

"Alright then," Akira replies, and does as he's told.

Iwai releases her arm. She lowers it, slowly, as if unafraid. Hell, she probably wasn't.

"Thanks for watching my kid," he says to her. "Guess I owe you one. But watching him for a few hours doesn't entitle you to shit." He steps away, steers Kaoru and calls back over his shoulder, "I've gotta talk to you soon, kid. Don't do anything stupid in the meantime."

Akira doesn't reply.

He hears her mutter, "Asshole," at his back.

He tells Kaoru to keep his mouth shut until they're around the corner. He's got a lot to think about, and he figures he can ask Kaoru for the woman's name some other time.

#

Ohya lowers the camera as Munehisa Iwai turns the corner, adopted son in tow.

The Plague glowers for a bit, then angry-whispers at Akira for a while, who just stands there and listens.

_Typical_.

Together, the two head off, and disappear without sparing her a glance.

She pulls back the hood of the sweatshirt, and fans herself off. _So, Akira Kurusu, Tae Takemi, and former yakuza enforcer Munehisa Iwai - including his son, Kaoru - hang out on street corners after dark together._

Why?

Simplest solution? Iwai ordered drugs from The Plague. But why involve his son? Why involve Akira? And that didn't explain Akira's connection to Takemi.

Just what the hell was his role in all of this?

She shoves away from the alley's wall, and heads for the station. She needs a drink. _Think you can just blow me off, eh? You've got another thing coming, Akira._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be one of my favorite chapters. Writing this took a long time, but I got it just the way I wanted it.
> 
> And the inevitable meeting between AKIRA AND MAKOTO OCCURRED!
> 
> I considered dragging this out another few chapters, but figured you'd all hack my computer, find my address, and come after me with pitchforks and torches.
> 
> As to the other issue. I'm not going to take a break, but I am going to cut back on the posts per week. Honestly, I think that in order to get things the way I want them, I'll just post once a week for the time being. Fridays would be easiest for me, so expect the next chapter of Crimson next Friday.
> 
> It'll only be temporary until I can fix things up, and then I'll increase the tempo again. Most of you replied that you'd prefer quality over quantity anyway, so hey, it works out.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading Crimson. I really appreciate it!
> 
> Oh, and if I haven't gotten to your comment yet, I apologize. I'll get to it as soon as I can.


	68. Hollywood Pt 3

6/9

There are more cables than Akira thought there'd be. They crisscross the floor of the studio in a snowflake matrix, running from cameras to power supplies to lights to outlets, all beneath and around the bodies of the students, eyes bright and guzzling of the spring from which their televised fantasies dribble. Their mouths admit a collective buzz, even as the tour guide - or whoever she is - pontificates of the joys and genius of modern broadcasting. "...why alluring newswomen are put on at night..."

Akira stands away from this gaggle, back to the studio's warm wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes glazed and bored. His friends stand to either side of him. Ryuji taps his foot in mock irritation. Ann flicks her hair and checks her nails in a slow cycle.

Morgana whispers from Akira's bag. "Are we all set?"

Three of the students all together cast glances at Akira and his friends, but Ryuji scowls them into turning away. "Ann and I burned everything we could find last night."

"That's not all that got burned," Ann whispers, a smile tugging at her mouth.

Akira doesn't ask her to elaborate. "Once we're out of here, we'll head to LeBlanc," he tells them. "Ann and I will meet with them inside. Ryuji, Morgana, you guys take Yusuke and watch the neighborhood. If you see anything suspicious, call us."

"Sure I shouldn't be there?" Ryuji asks, crossing his arms.

"Sure _I_ shouldn't be there?" Morgana whispers.

“Sure I _should_ be there?” Ann asks.

Akira nods. "The fewer of us that are in one place, the better, and it’s probable they’ve pieced together what Ann knows. Plus, I don't trust Yusuke to patrol all of Yongen-jaya by himself. He'll need your help."

"Roger," Morgana says.

Ryuji nods. "You got it."

Akira's gaze drifts over to the other group of students separated from the mass in the center. Makoto and Haru stand to the side, by themselves, bodies turned towards one another in what was likely scheming. As one, the two turn and stare towards the three of them.

The texts had come in the early AM.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: After the school trip. We meet. No debate._

Akira had deliberated setting LeBlanc as the meeting point for some time, but during breakfast Sojiro had announced an 'all afternoon' shopping trip, and so the cafe would be unattended. Besides, it put him in his home turf, and that was supposed to be an advantage, right? _It's not as if they don't already know about it_. He'd sent her the location, and time. Nothing else.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Acceptable._

Kawakami-sensei steps between the two groups, and announces in a voice that echoes through the room. "Oh no." Conversations die and all eyes turn to her.

"I have left something on the bus," she declares. Her head rotates towards Akira. "Kurusu, won't you help me with it?"

All eyes shift to him. _Are you freaking kidding me?_ He feels Morgana snuggle deeper in the bag. "Uh, sure," he mutters, straightening.

"What's this about?" Ann whispers through her teeth.

"Nothing," Akira tells her.

Kawakami's body swivels towards Makoto and Haru. "Niijima, would you mind taking over until I return with the thing I forgot on the bus?"

Akira hears her reply of, "Oh, of course," and then Kawakami is power-walking out of the studio, and Akira can do nothing but follow.

She leads him from the warren, excusing their way past dozens who bullet the corridors, all too busy to care who they are.

The outside air is bloated and about as cool as the inside air.

"Are we actually going to the bus?" Akira asks.

Kawakami whips around, hands white-knuckled on her hips. Thinking of her hips makes him think of her maid outfit which makes him swallow which makes Kawakami's eyes narrow.

"Because," he continues. "It's going to look pretty weird if we come back without something from the bus. Because, you know, you told everyone we were going to the bus. And-"

"Stop talking."

Akira obeys.

Kawakami heaves a sigh. Her shoulders slump forward, her head tilts to the side, her face slackens. "How can you be so flippant about all this?"

He doesn't have an answer so he doesn't give one. He can feel Morgana shift around in the bag, straining to hear through the muffling fabric.

_We've got enough going on_ , he thinks. _We shouldn't have to be dealing with this._

"Look," he says, and shrugs. "I don't see the big deal. Principal Toko wants you to tutor me on Friday nights. If anyone asks, I'll say you did."

"It's _not_ that simple, Kurusu." She jabs a finger at his chest. "She's not wrong. I've noticed you slipping up too. I'm not sure what it is that has you distracted, but half the time in class, you look like you can barely keep your eyes open." Her face pouts. "Are you really working all those jobs?"

"Yes," he tells her, and straightens. "I am."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, fine. Whatever. The point is, if your grades keep going down, the Principal will zero in on me. Why did I let it happen? Didn't I do enough? So, here's what's going to happen. I'm tutoring you on Friday nights."

Akira can't meet her eyes when he asks, "But aren't you, uh, doing the thing?"

Kawakami frowns. "Yes, Kurusu, I'm doing the thing." She crosses her arms, replants her feet and states, "On Friday nights, you'll call and order Becky. She’ll show up. She’ll tutor you. You pay the rate. And this goes on until your grades begin to improve."

Akira tries to squeeze this through his mind. "You want me to order your maid service so you can tutor me?"

Kawakami jabs a thumb towards her face. "I get ordered and get to keep my job. You get tutored and keep your grades up. That's what they call a win-win."

"And wait, you want me to pay you?" He runs through the numbers in his head. Five thousand yen every Friday night totaled a – what Ryuji would call – shit-ton of yen.

"Of course you're going to have to pay me," she snaps. "That's how transactions work." She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. "Maybe this isn't the best outcome for you. Too bad. It's not perfect for me either. But this way, we both get some degree of what we want, and it keeps the Principal off our backs."

Akira purses his lips and shifts his weight. "She stops harping about my grades, and no one finds out you moonlight as a maid."

Red blossoms in Kawakami's cheeks, and she averts her eyes, but does say, "Exactly."

He lets his mind spin, wishing he could talk with Morgana without Kawakami noticing. _Who knows if I'll even be at Shujin in the coming days? Hell, I could be in jail by this time tomorrow._ In the end, he has enough on his plate for today, and needs this interaction to be over with.

"Okay," he tells her. "That's what we'll do."

Kawakami looks like she doesn't quite believe him, but nods and pulls out her phone. "Let's exchange numbers. I can text you when it's a good time to order me."

"This is so weird," he mumbles, as he draws out his own phone.

#

When they return, Akira and Kawakami find the classes have moved to a massive soundstage one level down. All are seated as audience members, and a man on stage gesticulates wildly, his words booming, but little more than whitenoise to Akira's ears. He spies the words, 'Boys and Girls in the City!' backlit in neon across the stage's wall.

"Find a seat," Kawakami whispers, and vanishes into the shadows.

Akira hunches over and makes his way to Ryuji and Ann, who sit near the back, as the man goes on about the rules of the game.

Whatever he says elicits a mostly feminine cackle from the audience.

"What's  going on?" Akira asks, as he slides into a chair and takes his pack from his shoulder. Morgana's head pops out, and his ears flex.

Ryuji yawns and hands Akira a slip of paper. "I dunno. Here you go, man. We each got one. Dudes got even numbers, chicks got the odds."

Ann leans forward, and peers at him from over Ryuji's lap. "What did Kawakami-sensei want?"

Akira considers a lie, then realizes he doesn't have to. "She, um, wants to tutor me."

Ryuji's eyes widen, and a smirk threatens to break out across his face. "'Tutor' you, eh?"

Akira jabs him with his elbow, and Morgana hisses up at them. "Forget about all that! Did anything happen while we were outside? Did Makoto or Haru say anything to you guys?"

The man on stage calls out, "Will Miss Number Seventeen, please stand up!"

Ryuji shakes his head as a great cacophony of squeals shoot into the air. "Nah, no one said anything."

Again, from the stage. "Isn't she lovely folks! Come on up here, Miss!"

Ann nods. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she whispers. "They haven't reported us to the police yet, so maybe they won't?"

Ryuji casts a glance at her. "You sayin' you trust Niijima now?"

The announcer's voice booms. "And for the boys, Number Fourteen!"

Akira frowns at Ann and shakes his head. "I hope that's true too. But we can't be sure."

"Akira's right, Lady Ann," Morgana puts in. "Could be they want a straight confession out of us."

"Number Fourteen?"

"I know," Ann insists. "But if they can really get to Mementos, what more evidence could they need? Isn't her sister like a Public Prosecutor? Couldn't she have just gone straight to her?"

"Number Fourteeeeeen, where are you? Are you shy?"

Akira shrugs. "Maybe she's waiting. She's waiting to deliver us in one big, wrapped up package."

Ryuji clears his throat. "Uh, dude?"

"Hey look," Ann says, patting the air defensively. "You know I've got my issues with Niijima, but if we could-"

"Seriously, Number Fourteen, where are you?"

"-I don't know, be done with this whole thing, wouldn't that be for the best? We still have to figure out if someone else can get access to the Metaverse."

Akira rolls his eyes. "You mean, beside Makoto and Haru apparently?"

Ryuji smacks his shoulder. "Dude, Akira!"

"What?" Akira asks, rubbing the spot.

Ryuji doesn't reply, just points at the piece of paper in Akira's hand.

He looks down.

Number Fourteen.

"Number Fourteen, you sure are taking your sweet time," the annoucer calls out, trying to sound jovial through gritted teeth. "But if you could please stand up so we can get this game started, that'd be appreciated. We are on a schedule here."

Akira does not mean to stand up. It's just that the shock of what he holds in his hands is so great he can't help but recoil from it. His call of "Crap," is stifled as he trips over the back of his chair and sprawls out onto his back. A mixture of gasps and giggles rise from around him.

Ryuji and Ann start to rise. Morgana stuffs himself back into the bag.

The announcer beams. "There he is! Finally!" He motions. "Come on down!"

Akira pushes himself to his feet and holds out the paper towards Ryuji. "Switch with me."

Ryuji's head shakes so fast it looks set to snap. "Nuh-uh, bro."

"Switch with me," Akira demands, reaching for Ryuji's paper.

"No," Ryuji shouts, and scrunches up, protecting his number with his body.

"Please!"

" _No!_ "

"Hey," the announcer spits. "Number Fourteen, _let's go_."

"Stop acting suspicious," Morgana hisses from the bag. "Just get it over with."

Akira sighs, swallows and steps out into the aisle.

The announcer's grin returns. "Let's give him a hand!" A smattering of applause answers. The man looks nonplussed. "Uh, alright. Well, come on up, Number Fourteen, and join the lovely Miss Number Seventeen on stage!"

Akira's eyes focus on the figure standing on the stage next to the announcer.

The blood red face of Makoto Niijima stares back at him, through wide eyes.

"Fuck my life," he sighs.

#

_Don't panic_.

Akira hauls himself to the stage, spares her hardly a glance, and collapses into one of the two chairs arranged for them.

_Don't panic_.

He's left his bag and phone with Sakamoto. She saw him relinquish them upon accepting his fate.

As calm as she can, Makoto arrays herself in the chair left to her. What feels like a million faces stare at her from the audience. Through the shadowed expressions, she finds Haru, who looks as if she can’t decide how to look. Eventually the girl settles on mouthing, “Do your best,” and finishes with a shrug.

She considers calculating the odds of this actually happening, but dismisses it as a waste of time. This _is_ happening. Akira meets her eyes, a strange look hanging on his face. She tries to read it. Tries to discern what he wants her to know, but can’t make sense of it.

Makoto tries to reply with her own telling look. _Let’s just downplay this_. If they could get through whatever nonsense this was, they could get to their meeting, and Makoto would finally, _finally_ have the truth. She hoped. She knew.

The announcer – who declares himself Goto-kun – parrots some stage antics. He hops around and shouts into the microphone, and it’s not that Makoto tries to ignore him, it’s only that she can’t seem to organize her thoughts. _What the hell even is this whole thing?_ Goto-kun had gone on at length about it, but she’d been so focused on the upcoming Phantom Thieves meeting she hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention.

Goto-kun shoves the microphone in her face. She stares up at him.

“I said, what’s your name?”

“Makoto Niijima,” she mumbles. The scramble the mic butchers of her voice makes her wince.

The man bounds over to Akira, flourishes his device, and asks the same question. “Akira Kurusu,” he mutters.

Goto-kun throws his hands into the air and shouts, “Alright,” then retreats across the stage. The cameras turn to follow him, and a few people dressed in black swarm the stage, handing Akira and Makoto pens and large sheets of white marker board, and outfitting each of them with a small mic snapped to their collars.

“First question!” Goto-kun declares once they’ve both been equipped.

Akira raises his hand. “What are we doing again?”

 Goto's smile flickers to something nastier, and returns just as quickly. "As I said, we're going to ask you questions about one another. Think of them as compatibility measurement tools. Do your best to answer, even if you have to guess."

"But, sir?" Makoto puts in. "We don't know each other that well."

Goto sweeps his hand in a very clear, 'Cut it,' gesture. The cameras darken, and he turns to them. "That's the _point_. It's a game, get it? Just a game. None of us want to be here, yeah? But the studio thought it would be fun to let you kids see a live taping. So, answer the questions and we can keep things moving. And for God's sake, pretend like you're having a good time." He leans back in his chair, and brings his index and middle finger to his neck, as if to check his pulse. "I should've listened to my father and gone to work at the bank," he mutters. He spares them one more glare. "Act like you've got a crush on one another, or something." He returns his eyes to the cameras, re-adorns his smile, and gestures.

The lights come back on. "Sorry about that folks! First question. Makoto-chan! Akira-kun! Have you ever met one another before?"

Makoto hears a pen click, and turns to find Akira scrawling his answer on the marker board.

_What's he putting? What should I put?_ She considers, 'No,' but enough students have seen them studying together to recognize her lie. She writes her answer.

"And, reveal," Goto calls.

Akira and Makoto turn their boards around to face the cameras. Both read, 'Yes.' There's a collective murmuring among the students, and Goto-kun claps his hands. "Fantastic," he cries. "That makes this all so much better!" He rubs his hands together. "Let's get into the nitty gritty then, shall we?" A few appreciative whoops rise from the audience. "Tell us, you two, what do you both think of one another?"

Makoto feels her throat dry. She steals a glance at Akira, who meets it and gives a slight shake of his head.

"Hey now," Goto shouts, with a laugh. "No cheating!"

Makoto frowns. _Now what?_ She rubs out her first answer with her hand, and lowers the tip of the pen to the board. _What_ do _I think of Akira?_ That was something of a tricky question. _Something innocuous would be best_. She hears the squeak of the pen. Akira, looking bored, writes something. _Dammit, what the hell is he putting?_

Grimacing, she writes something down quick as she can.

"Okay," Goto states, once they've finished. "We'll have Makoto-chan reveal first. Go ahead!"

Makoto swallows and turns her board around.

Goto's smile falters. "'Wears glasses?' Well, uh," he takes a look at Akira, "I suppose that's true. We were kind of looking for something a bit more personal, Makoto-chan."

Akira looks to be stifling a grin. "Alright then," Goto continues. "Why don't you show us what you think of Makoto-chan, Akira-kun?"

Akira spins his board around. It reads 'Very Diligent.' He deadpans a look over at Makoto, who - before she can help herself - chokes out a laugh.

Goto lets out a, "Hmmm," before shaking his head and saying, "No good. No good at all!" He grins at the audience. "I guess we'll have to take things up a notch."

Makoto lifts her eyes to the lights hanging above the stage and wills one to fall on her.

No luck.

"Question Number Three," Goto shouts. "Akira-kun, Makoto-chan! Do you find the other cute?"

Makoto feels red explode in her cheeks. Akira looks equally uncomfortable. Both look everywhere but at one another.

_I should put, 'No, right? But if I do that, won't it come off as mean? And would that put a damper on the meeting later? But what happens if I put, 'Yes?' Wouldn't that be even worse?_ She stares at the announcer and his plastic grin. _I'd like to kick those teeth in._ She searches the crowd for Haru, and when she finds her, gives her friend the most beseeching look she can muster.

Haru's response is a shrug and a giggle.

_Thanks a lot._

She hears Akira sigh and start to write something.

_Oh, God. What's he writing?_ She hadn't considered what he could put. _Screw it!_ She writes an answer.

Goto chuckles. "I suspect we've finally gotten to the good stuff. Akira-kun, reveal!"

Akira's eyes widen. "Wait, me first?"

"That's right," Goto nods.

Akira turns his over. Murmurs erupt from the audience.

He's written, 'Very.' Makoto fights the urge to cover her face with the marker board, and losses.

"Oh ho!" Goto exclaims. "Looks like Makoto-chan is embarrassed! Good on you to be honest, Akira-kun. She is quite cute, yeah?" He throws back his head and laughs. "It's your turn now, Makoto-chan."

She lets out a groan and turns hers' around.

"'Partially?'" She hears Akira mumble. She lets out a larger grown.

More excited whispers from the students.

"I have a suspicion," Goto says. "Makoto-chan is being a bit dishonest." Laughter. He pats the air. "Alright, alright. Let's switch over to some guesswork, yes?" He makes a point of looking like he's thinking. Then, he brightens. "This should be an easy one. Why don't you both write down what you think the other's favorite TV show is?"

Akira doesn't hesitate, but Makoto feels stuck. _I don't know the first thing about his watching habits_. Not to mention she's still mortified from the last question. She glances at him. _He seems more the bookish type_. She shakes her head and takes a guess.

"Alright, Makoto-chan, show us," Goto shouts.

Makoto turns over her board, revealing the 'One Piece' that she wrote.

A few people, "Oooh," in the audience.

Goto nods. "Good choice. Good choice. What'd you think, Akira-kun? Was she right?"

Akira shrugs and mutters something.

"Speak up so we all can hear," Goto reminds him.

Akira clears his throat and says, "I've only watched the first few episodes of that."

Goto sighs. "Looks like your guess was a bit off the mark, Makoto-chan. Akira-kun, what did you write?"

Akira holds his aloft. 'Buchimaru-kun,' is scribbled across it.

"Wow," Goto says. "I haven't heard that name in a while." He looks at Makoto. "Is he correct?"

Makoto forces herself to nod.

Goto laughs. "Wow, you really do have a cute side," he states. Makoto hears a few chuckles from the audience and slides down in her seat.

"Terrace House," Akira coughs out.

Makoto's eyes snap to him, as do Goto's. She feels the weight of the audience's attention shift to him as well.

"What's that, Akira-kun?"

"My favorite show is Terrace House," he repeats.

A voice from the audience - a voice that sounds very much like Sakamoto's - shouts out, "Lame," and the audience begins to laugh.

Akira reddens, but doesn't cow beneath it. Instead, he glances her way, and gives her a small smile. She mouths back, "Thank you," then curses herself for it. She hadn't asked for any help! _God, he is impossible!_ She narrows her eyes. She'll get him in the next round.

"Next question," Goto continues. "What is the other's favorite activity?"

Makoto smiles and jots down her answer. Akira does the same.

When the announcer calls for them to flip their boards, Makoto shows first, and keeps her smile to a minimum, even as the crowd gapes at the 'Trouble,' she wrote.

Akira blanches from where he sits, but then she reads his, 'Investigating,' and she fears her eyes may fall from her head.

"Investigating?" Goto asks. "What'd you mean by that?"

"It's nothing," Akira replies, and wipes the board clean. "Just an inside joke."

"Oh, an _inside joke_ , folks," he says. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the 'Trouble,' she suggests Akira-kun is into."

The crowd continues to talk amongst themselves, and Makoto begins to fear she may have done Akira a disservice.

But there's nothing for it now.

The game continues for a time, and Makoto feels as if she'll drown in her sweat. A few more questions are asked, and thankfully, they seem to have both agreed to downplay the rest and get it over as quickly as possible.

"Well now," Goto states. "Quite an exhilarating Round One, wasn't it folks?"

Akira and Makoto glance at one another. He mouths, "Round One?" and pales.

"But," Goto continues. "We've got another activity in store for these two today! But, before we get to that, Akira-kun sure seemed a little off, yes? A little dry?"

No one replies. Then, someone - again, Sakamoto - shouts, "He sure does!"

Goto beams. "Then let's fix that!" He points up, and Makoto follows his finger to the rafters above, where a number of black-clad stage hands are overturning a bucket over Akira's head.

A green slime-like fluid falls from the ceiling and douses Akira in his chair, muffling his, "What the fu-" before it can fully escape him.

The green sloshes over him and drips to the floor. A great silence stretches over the room, until it is broken by uproarious laughter and applause. Akira pulls his glasses from his face, and two eyes stare out from beneath the muck.

Makoto keeps her mouth shut. She tells herself that it was a horrible trick. A mean thing to do. But she can't restrain herself for long. As Akira wipes away some of the viscous whatever from his face, Makoto bursts into giggles that turn to gales of laughter.

He glares up at her, but she cannot help it. Akira makes an attempt to stand, slips in the muck on the ground, and collapses onto his butt. Makoto claps her hands over her mouth, and squeezes her eyes shut.

Goto looks at the camera and calls, "We'll be right back!" The lights dim a bit. He turns to the two. "Here's the deal. You two will be set up with everything you need and directed to the obstacle course downstairs. Don't keep us waiting, got it?" He stomps off, and ignores Makoto as she cries out, "Set up with what?" and Akira shouts, "Did you say 'obstacle course?'"

The students chatter amongst themselves, and a din rises over her. Makoto stares out and finds Haru's smiling face. She offers a thumbs up and mouths, "You did great!" Even silent, it doesn't sound convincing.

On the other side of the studio, she can make out the two blonde heads of Takamaki and Sakamoto, whispering together. Behind them, Kawakami-sensei's grin appears to split her face.

"Don't mind me," Akira says, and drags himself to his feet. "I'll be fine."

She glances over at him. "I think you should know-"

"Save it," he tells her. "This isn't the time or place for all that."

She narrows her eyes. "Yes, Akira. I know that. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say that 'I think you should know that that green stuff smells terrible."

Akira flicks some of it off his hands. "Sometimes I think I must've been a homicidal maniac in a past life to get this much shit, this constantly."

Makoto smiles. "You should stow the self-pity. Our ordeal isn't over yet." A stagehand motions for them to follow her, and Makoto obeys.

She hears the _squish squish_ of Akira's feet behind her. "It never is," he mutters.

#

Makoto stares at herself in the makeup room's mirror. "This is not appropriate."

"I think you look fine," Haru tells her, in a tone that says she does not think Makoto looks fine.

The outfit is some sort of roller derby get-up, but her midriff is exposed - which she does not appreciate - and the skirt is not anything approaching regulation length. There are, at least, leggings and the helmet seemed sturdy, though it made Makoto worry over why she needed a helmet in the first place.

They'd let her bring one friend to help her prepare.

"That was quite funny when they dumped the slime on Akira," Haru says, eager to change the topic.

Makoto grins. "That's true. I can only imagine what he's thinking of all this."

The door opens and the stagehand enters. "All set? We need to get going."

Makoto sighs, ensures the helmet is secure, and nods. Haru gives her a quick, warm hug, and bids her good luck and farewell.

Makoto follows the stagehand out of the room and down the corridor.

 

\----

 

They turn the hall, and find Akira leaning against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. The outfit matches hers', sans skirt and too much skin, but still seems to small for him.

In the short time since she's last seen him, it appears he's been allowed a quick shower, as he's free - mostly - of the green slime. Some of his hair hangs loose out of his helmet, and over his face.

Ryuji Sakamoto stands alongside him, smirking about something. They both see Makoto together, and while Sakamoto lets out of a small guffaw, Akira's cheeks redden and he turns away.

Makoto does not allow herself to consider what any of that could mean.

"Time for you to go," the stagehand says to Sakamoto, and the boy nods.

"Right, got it. Good luck, bro. You too, Prez." He turns and lifts a hand in farewell. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Like set your pants on fire?" Akira asks.

Ryuji winces as if struck, and turns back. "Ann told you?"

Akira's smile is bright and happy and mischievous. "This morning. Before we left."

"What's going on?" Makoto asks.

"Nothing," both boys says.

"Oh."

Sakamoto shakes his head, and continues his march back to wherever the students were supposed to go.

"Right, let's keep it moving," the stagehand continues.

Makoto and Akira fall in line and follow her. "You know," Makoto whispers up at him. "Part of me can't help but wonder if this is all some elaborate trick to get out of our meeting later."

Akira glances in her direction and scoffs. "You think I'm capable of putting something like this together?"

Makoto smirks. "I think if you _were_ to put something like this together, it would be going about as well for you as it is right now." Without realizing she's doing it, she reaches a hand towards his face. "Hold still."

He halts, face frozen, eyes wide. She takes a bit of green goop that hangs from a strand of his loose hair between her fingers and pulls it free. "There."

"Uh, thanks," he says.

Makoto feels her face flush when she realizes what she's done. "It's nothing. I just don't think your view should be obstructed during this... thing."

"Right," Akira replies. "Okay."

They are led down another series of hallways, and are finally instructed to stop outside a large set of double doors.

"Good luck," the stagehand mutters, and rushes off for some other task. Akira and Makoto look at one another.

"Should we go in?" She asks.

"I guess so," he tells her, and reaches out a hand to the door. When he pushes it open, sound explodes from everything.

At first, Makoto can't see anything and the only sensation is the blaring music and screams from the audience. The lights are too bright for any kind of recognition, but she begins to hear the voice of Goto-kun calling, “Welcome, Makoto-chan! Welcome, Akira-kun! To the God’s Lament!”

_God’s Lament?_ Makoto wonders. _What kind of name is that?_

The light rectifies into the obstacle course. They are in what someone might mistake for an arena, if they missed the warehouse-like walls and ceiling and the smoothed over concrete floor the whole thing sits on. Rows and rows of bleachers sit on either side of the massive thing, occupied by the students who don't even begin to fill them all up. Makoto cannot see Haru. She cannot see Sakamoto or Takamaki either.

She does not look too hard.

They are at the entrance of two ramps. One drops down into an open space of relatively smooth blacktop, peppered with small plastic stalagmites that offer no direct route to the other side of the room. Two beefy men on rollerblades, decked in tank tops and shorts that accentuate their over large muscles, weave in and out of the obstacles, hands high in the air to the amplified chants of the audience.

The second ramp climbs a short distance and splits into five individual, zigzagging paths that cross and crisscross over one another. Each has its own distinct obstacle. Steam sprays from the ground on one. On another, large foam pendulums swing back and forth. A third has small plastic protrusions popping up and out of the floor, before shooting back down. The paths are made of some thick material held aloft by a series of four pillars, and beneath a few of the shallow-walled ones, are fishnets. Makoto gulps. It's rather obvious what those are for.

It's rather obvious what the ball on the small podium just before them is for as well.

Goto-kun stands at the far wall, beneath a painted black and white checkered splotch over which reads, 'Finish.' The separate courses both end in the same spot. "Your objective," he cries, and points across the expanse at the two of them. "Is to bring that ball to this side of the room. But you'll have to work together to avoid our traps and pitfalls, and you'll have to avoid our two guardians!" The two men pump their fists.

Next to the podium are two pairs of rollerblades. "I can't believe this," Makoto groans.

"Me neither," Akira puts in, and surveys the room. His eyes narrow and she follows his gaze. Two climbing ropes hang from the upper path, down to the area where the guardians circle.

"You've got two minutes to come up with your strategy and get your skates on," Goto continues. "Once time's up, our guardians will undertake their holy duty to stop you!" He laughs. "Which path will you take? The more treacherous higher path? The guardians will find it as difficult to catch you as you will to cross it! Or the lower, which will expose you to their danger?" He spreads his arms wide. "The choice is entirely up to you! Tick-tock!"

Makoto hears a buzzer and the sound of seconds-hand moving across a clock, but she can't see the device anywhere. She reaches for one of the smaller skates, and turns to Akira. "I suppose we should get this over with."

"Yeah," Akira replies, and takes up his own pair. "Any ideas?"

#

"You can't skate?" Akira shouts, in his most incredulous voice. "What'd you mean you can't skate? We've only got thirty seconds left!"

Makoto crosses her arms and glares over at him. "I mean what I mean, Akira. I can't skate. That doesn't mean I can't throw or catch." She wobbles a bit on the blades, and Akira resists the urge to reach out and steady her.

"It means you can't _move_ ," he responds. "How are you supposed to help get the ball over there?"

"Just go down the lower path," Makoto replies, voice rising. "I'll throw it to you when you're close to the end."

Akira points at the two guardians who stand smirking at them, arms crossed, ears open. "And what about them, Miss Student Council President? How am I supposed to get past them?"

Makoto nods towards the higher path. "Well you can't go that way, you're not coordinated enough to make it through."

Akira snatches the ball off the podium. "I'm coordinated enough, thank you very much."

Makoto rolls her eyes. "Oh please, I've heard you can't even dodge the chalk Ushimaru-sensei chucks at you."

_Ouch_.

Makoto holds out her hand. "Give me the ball, I'll throw it when you get close."

Akira shakes his head. "No. I'll do it all myself. You'd probably hurl it off somewhere and miss me completely, and I'll just end up getting creamed by those washed up athletes and failed actors down there."

The faces of the 'guardians' darken. Akira frowns. _Wrong thing to say, apparently_.

"Trouble in paradise, folks!" Goto-kun announces. People in the audience snicker. Akira's sure they'll raise the volume of that in the final cut.

A buzzer blares and the two guardians start towards them.

Makoto holds out her hand. "Akira, I can help.”

Akira rolls back, out of her reach. "No, you can't."

He turns and shoots up the ramp towards the higher course, ball in hand.

"Looks like Akira-kun has chosen the high path!" Goto cries. "As for Makoto-chan... well, she doesn't look too pleased."

Akira spares a glance over his shoulder and sees her throwing shuriken at him with her eyes.

The two guardians spin around, and dash towards the ropes. Akira rolls into one of the easier looking paths, the one with steam, and tries to speed through it as quick as he can. Sadly, the men are like spider monkeys and ascend their ropes in a mere seconds, appearing far ahead of him, arms wide, grimacing.

Akira turns around and retraces his steps. He sees Makoto wobbling down the lower ramp towards the easier course, her face the look of someone who desperately wants all this to end.

Akira spins around into one of the other paths, the one with pendulums. They _swing_ and _swing_ and _swing_ and it's all he can do to time it correctly that he doesn't get knocked off into the fishnets below. The longer he waits, however, the closer those goons get to him, so after he's only passed two of the swinging behemoths, he turns back and retreats once again. The guardians avoid the pendulum path as well, but if Akira tries it again they'll just wait at the end for him. That leaves him with only five paths, all of which they can cover easily.

Another look down below, and he sees Makoto inching her way across the floor, arms spread wide to keep her balance. It almost makes him smile.

"You're gonna regret insulting us," one of the guardians growl. Akira returns his attention to them, and sees one of them slowly approaching him down one of the easier paths, the one with the small little plastic protrusions popping out. Akira skates past this one and rolls into one of the paths with the higher walls. Even if they hit him or tackle him in this one, he won't fall off the side, which is good because there's no fishnet beneath this one, and there's nothing to obstruct his path.

Until, of course, the second guardian rolls into the exit of the path to block him, and when Akira turns back, finds the first has somehow sped up and now blocks his entrance.

He is now completely trapped.

"What'd you think of this?" The second guardian asks, advancing. "You little smart ass?"

Akira looks at him.

He grins.

"I think it's perfect."

He moves. Not towards either gladiator. Not towards either exit. Towards the edge of the path. The high wall. He leaps as he nears it, grabs the edge with one hand and hoists himself up just enough to lift the ball and drop it over the side.

Into the waiting arms of Makoto, who drops the act and sprints dead on across the stalagmite-peppered but guardian-less blacktop. Both guardians race towards the lip of the wall, jump, and look over themselves.

"Shit," one cries, as he watches Makoto skate.

Neither try anything. It's already too late. Akira pulls himself up once more, and watches as Makoto skates with the grace of not quite an expert up the little ramp, up next to Goto, touches the wall marked 'Finish,' and sets the ball on the ground.

There is a huge grin on her face, and it makes everything inside him sing.

Another buzzer sounds.

"Uh," Goto-kun says. "Wow. Okay." His grin returns. "Okay!" The crowd begins to applaud, and even if it is faint and fleeting, Akira doesn't care. The guardians glide off, more dejected than Akira figured they would be. _Now I feel bad about the comment_. It hadn't been part of the plan, just an extra little bit he'd thrown in to ensure they came directly for him.

Apologizing to them in his mind, he skates the rest of the way down towards the finish.

When he reaches it, and finds Makoto still grinning, he holds up his hand, palm out. Without a word, Makoto high-fives him.

"Not bad," Akira tells her.

"Agreed," Makoto replies. "Though I think you could've done without insulting the guardians."

He shrugs. "I wanted to make sure they left you alone."

Goto-kun sighs, and Akira notices the cameras no longer point in their direction. "Well, that's the end of that. They'll add some voice over during the credits. You two are done." He stares back out over the course. "So, that argument you two had at the beginning was just a part of your strategy?"

Akira beams. " _That_ was my idea."

Makoto rolls her eyes. For real this time. "The only one of his ideas that made it into the final plan." Makoto bends down to unlace her skates. "We came up with it as we were putting on the skates, you see. Whispering. I figured that-"

"Yeah," Goto-kun cuts her off. "I was just looking for a yes or no, not a whole explanation." He turns and stomps off towards one of the exit signs.

Akira and Makoto watch him leave.

"Jerk," Makoto says.

"Asshole," Akira whispers.

They look at each other. Akira clears his throat. Makoto says nothing.

They remove their skates in silence. Two stagehands appear and explain they take each of them back to their separate rooms where they can change. A few loose fitting clothes will provided to him, as his uniform was still covered in slime. The studio would be happy to reimburse him, of course, one of the stagehands explained.

Akira looks back at Makoto. "So," he starts, then can't figure out how to finish.

"Yeah," Makoto replies.

And that was that.

"I guess I'll see you in a little bit," Akira tells her.

Makoto nods. "I guess you will."

They turn, and walk away from each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this rather absurd chapter.
> 
> See you next Friday!


	69. Summit

Akira makes his decision. This shirt will not do. He wrenches it off, pulls another from his box of clothes, and drops it on over his head.

Morgana watches him from the windowsill, eyes sharp. "Is this really the most important thing right now?"

A witty repartee - he's looked it up since yesterday - pops into his mind, but he swallows it and mumbles, "Give me a break. I'm nervous."

Not to mention worn out. The morning's competition had seen to that.

He throws a white button-down over the t-shirt.

_That's better._

Morgana's ears droop. "I get that. It's just that we worked hard to avoid this."

_Evidently, not hard enough_.

"What're you going to say to her? To them?"

Akira checks his phone for the fifteenth time since coming home. No new messages. "It'll depend on what they say to me."

Morgana's tail swishes through the air. "Not much of a plan."

His laugh is short. "Yeah, well. Considering how all my other plans involving Makoto have turned out, maybe it's time to start winging it."

Morgana says nothing for a time. Then, "Just be careful."

His phone vibrates. I know."

"Because we're still not sure what her intentions are."

"I know." There's a message from Makoto.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: We'll arrive in a few minutes._

Akira replies with a text of his own, then looks up at the cat. "You should join Ryuji and Yusuke on patrol."

"Right. Good luck." The cat slips through the window and trots off.

Ann is waiting for him downstairs, but alone, Akira takes a seat on his bed, hands clasped together, and stares at the floorboards.

_Okay_ , he thinks. _Okay. Just stay calm. Stay in control. Stay calm and in control_. He takes a deep breath. _Let's do it_. But it's another thirty seconds before he can stand himself up.

Ann sits at the bar, by herself, mug of coffee in her hand. She still wears her summer uniform. He approaches and she turns to him. "You ready?"

He gives her a nod, and runs a hand through his hair. "Is all that green stuff off me?"

A thin smile breaks across her face. "Looks like it."

Akira pulls out the chair next to her, and sits. "Good. That's good."

"Nervous?" She asks.

"Oh, yeah. You?"

Ann turns her face towards the coffee. From this angle, Akira can see she's barely touched it. "Take a guess."

His gaze wanders around the cafe. "Thanks for doing this with me."

Ann reaches out and lightly jabs him on the shoulder. "No problem. Did Niijima message you?"

"About a minute or two ago. They said they'll be here soon."

Ann lets out a long breath that isn't quite a sigh. "Okay, then. You ready?"

Akira smirks at her. "You already asked me that."

Ann shrugs. "Just making sure."

Akira stares past her, towards the door. "As ready as I probably can be."

#

**_AKIRA:_ ** _I'll be here._

Makoto goes to replace her phone in her pocket. Its corner gets snagged as she tries to slide it home, and she needs to take it back out and try again.

"Mako-chan, are you alright?" Haru asks.

"Fine," Makoto says as she stuffs the phone away. "That was Akira."

"What did he say?"

Makoto readjusts the bag on her shoulder. "It appears he's ready for us." She does not resume walking.

After the conclusion of that ridiculous game show, the school had sent everyone home for the day. Makoto and Haru had been allotted just enough time to rush back to former’s, so she could shower properly, change, and prepare.

So what if she had taken a little longer to make sure her outfit was appropriate?

Her mind drifts back to the stupid show. The questions. The obstacle course. The thrill as she'd brought the ball to the finish.

"Nervous?" Haru asks.

Makoto shuts her eyes. She breathes in. She breathes out. Breathes in, breathes out. "I'm just trying to get my head in the right space," she says.

"If you're not up for this-"

Makoto's eyes snap open. "No. No, this has been put off long enough. I want the truth."

Haru nods. "Agreed." She turns and faces the path ahead. "Let's go get it then, Mako-chan."

Makoto steps up alongside her. "Let's."

They weave through Yongen-jaya's alleys, and pass an assortment of shuttered shops, grumbling older citizens, and one odd boy with blue hair who stares at the skyline through a box he's made with his fingers.

She's walked these streets before, during her investigation, so she recognizes Cafe LeBlanc. But to go inside? She can feel her pulse in her neck.

"Oh no," Haru exclaims.

Makoto spins around, searching for the danger. "What's wrong?"

Haru points at the sign that hangs in the door. "It says it's closed."

Makoto's shoulders slump forward. "I don't think that applies to us, Haru."

#

The door jingles open and Akira sits all the straighter.

Ann's head snaps around, but Akira tries a more controlled turn, and finds Makoto and Haru in LeBlanc's threshold. The door swings shut behind them.

No one says anything.

_Come on, focus!_

"Welcome," he says, and does his best to smoothly slide off the chair.

The silence broken, Makoto takes another step, quickly followed by Haru. "Thank you," she says.

"Um," Haru puts in. "You're not closed, right?"

Akira chuckles as Ann stands up, arms crossed. "LeBlanc is," he says. "But you don't have to worry about anything. Boss won't be back for a while."

The two girls glance at one another, evidently wondering over the identity of 'Boss.'

Akira doesn't give them time to consider. "Why don't we all sit down?" He gestures towards a booth.

The two approach. "Interesting name you have for Sojiro Sakura," Makoto mutters, nonchalantly.

He turns his head to hide his scowl. Of _course_ she'd have looked up the owner of the place. "Want some coffee?" He asks.

Both consider, before sitting. "I would, thank you," Makoto says.

"I'll have some as well," Haru puts in. "It smells wonderful in here, by the way."

"Thanks," Akira replies, as Ann says, "I'll get it." She marches her way behind the bar, takes two clean mugs from the shelf, and pours from the same batch Akira made earlier.

Akira takes a seat across from the girls.

“Are you recovered from our experience earlier today?” Makoto asks.

He smiles. “I am. How are you doing?”

“Well, thank you.” She glances around. "Where's Sakamoto?"

_Moving right along, eh?_ Akira shrugs. "Around."

Haru looks past him, towards the stairs. "And Mona-chan?"

"He's around too."

"It's interesting," Makoto replies. "That you wouldn't have them present at this meeting."

Ann saves him from having to answer by arriving at the table. She sets the mugs down before the two girls. "Don't worry," she says, in a clear voice. "They're not poisoned." She sits next to Akira.

Makoto stares at the cup for a moment, then lifts it and takes a sip. Her eyes brighten. "It's very good, thank you." Haru follows in kind.

"So," Akira says. "What's this information you have?"

Makoto sets her mug back on the table. "We'll get to that, I hope."

"You hope?"

"Yes, I hope."

"Because," Haro pipes up. "Before we begin, Mako-chan and I would like certain assurances."

"Or," Makoto says. "To be more specific, we want your word."

Akira feels his brows creep upwards. "My word? For what?"

Makoto holds his gaze steady. "That regardless of how this meeting turns out, neither Haru nor myself will be in any kind of danger, or face any kind of repercussions from the Phantom Thieves."

He lets himself glance at Ann, who stares back at him, wide eyed, and feels his stomach churn. "Could you be a bit more specific? About this danger you think the Phantom Thieves pose?"

Makoto lifts her mug, and takes another sip. Akira gets the distinct impression she's psyching herself up. _Should've done that before you got here_. She replaces the cup on the table, swallows, and folds her hands together. "Ichiryusai Madarame. Two hours after his televised appearance, in which he confessed to his crimes, he was murdered."

Akira leans back in the booth. _Is this why she looked afraid yesterday? Because she thinks_ we _did that?_ Hell, why not? Ohya had put it together. He'd said it himself too, that night she'd made her suspicions knowns. _If I wasn't a Phantom Thief, I'd think something weird was going on too_. But hold on. Madarame was one thing. But it was Madarame's death coupled with Kobayakawa's supposed suicide that made it all suspicious. _Does she know about the note? How?_ Was there a way to ask her somehow?

It's Haru who speaks next. "You two don't look all that surprised."

Ann shakes her head. "What do you want us to say? Madarame was stabbed by his former apprentice."

Akira follows up. "Exactly. What's that got to do with the Phantom Thieves?"

Makoto's thumbs tap against the table. "You're saying the timing is coincidental?"

_Damn, she's not letting this go_. Alright, he had his own cards he could throw on the table. "I'm saying, that if the Phantom Thieves wanted to kill Madarame, why didn't they kill Kamoshida?"

Makoto blinks. "Excuse me?"

Ann catches his eye and nods. She crosses her arms. "I'd like to bury that bastard for what he did to Shiho." She nearly spits the name, and Makoto winces at the mention of it. Haru's eyes narrow. "But he's sitting in a jail cell. He's perfectly fine." She slaps her hand on the table. Everyone jumps. "You'd think the Phantom Thieves would let _scum_ like him go, but kill off Madarame?"

Akira tries to telepathically tell her that she's going a bit overboard, but it doesn't seem to puncture.

He starts to speak quickly instead. "Did you forget what happened the day Kamoshida confessed? He said he was going to kill himself. It was Ann and Ryuji who convinced him to turn himself in and atone for what he did." A new avenue hits him. "If the Phantom Thieves wanted Kamoshida dead, why didn't they just let him off himself?" _And if she knows about Kobayakawa, this'll throw doubt onto the idea that we killed him_.

Haru clears her throat. "Excuse me?"

#

Makoto turns to her friend, all the while running through what Akira had said in her head. _Dammit. I hadn't thought of that_. Kamoshida was alive, and had done much more to affect the lives of Akira, Takamaki and Sakamoto than Madarame ever had. So why kill him and not their primary tormentor? If she had a choice between the two, she'd rather it be Kamoshida dead.

"But," Haru states. "That you didn't kill Kamoshida is not evidence that you couldn't. Only that you didn't. There's also the chance that you didn't know _how_ to use your powers to kill someone at that time. Plus, Kamoshida was something of a fool, and it's likely he wouldn't have figured out you were the ones behind his downfall, so you were relatively safe from reprisal. But someone like Madarame, who ran his scam for years undetected? I imagine he was a bit more cunning. It's possible he had something on you, or a link to your identities. And that's why you killed him."

Makoto fights the grin off her face. _That's right!_ The same held true for Kobayakawa. If Morgana overheard the Principal's talk with Makoto that one day, then the Phantom Thieves would've known the man was onto, or at least suspected them.

A decidedly unpleasant and queasy look passes over Akira's face. _That's right, Akira_ , Makoto gloats. _You spent all this time trying to outsmart me. Did you realize you had to outsmart Haru too?_

Her friend maintains her poise. "What we are trying to say," she continues. "Is that we want to believe the Phantom Thieves aren't murderers. I don't believe there's anything that either of you can say that will convince us completely of that, which is why we are asking for your word that nothing will happen to us."

Akira shakes his head. "The word of a potential killer?"

Haru doesn't blink. "The word of Akira Kurusu, our friend."

Makoto watches some of the color drain from Akira's face. Just a bit. _Wow,_ she thinks. _I should've just let Haru run the whole thing._

Ann recovers faster. "You say there's nothing we could say to convince you we didn't kill Madarame. Well, there's nothing you could really say to convince us that you're not our enemies."

"Perhaps not," Makoto replies. _Here we go_. The give and take had to start somewhere. "But perhaps there's something we could show you." She shifts in her seat, and reaches into her bag.

#

_Goddamn_ , Akira thinks. _I spent all this time trying to outthink Makoto, I should've kept a closer eye on Haru_.

The girl doesn't look the least bit concerned over anything she's said, rather she appears to have just finished discussing the weather. He snaps his mind back into place as Makoto withdraws a folder from her bag, and sets it on the table.

Akira looks at it. It's thin. Manila. Nondescript.

"What's this?" He asks, but he already has a strong suspicion.

Makoto takes another sip of coffee, and looks almost lighter. "Why don't you open it?"

He reaches out, and turns the cover. His own photo stares back at him. His school photo. It is his student record.

There are more pages. He flips to the next. Ryuji glowers out from his student picture. He turns the page. Ann grins. Another page. Mishima stares tentatively at the camera. Once more. Shiho wears a small smile.

Ann's hand shoots beneath the table and grabs his leg. "Akira," she whispers, but he just nods.

"The day after Principal Kobayakawa died," Makoto says. "Before the assembly started, I went into his office. At the time, it felt like I was in a dream. I even kept telling myself to wake up." She nods towards the file. "I knew the police would eventually come. I was surprised they hadn't yet."

"You stole it," Akira mutters.

Makoto's cheeks redden, but she says, "I suppose I did."

There is one last page in the file. He turns it. Makoto's own photo stares up at him. Calm. Collected. Exactly where she needs to be.

Akira's mouth works, but no sound comes out.

_You heard wrong._

_I didn't._

_You heard wrong._

_I'm telling you, I didn't._

And he hadn't. He hadn't heard wrong. He just hadn't been able to see what was on the last page. And why would Kobayakawa have mentioned her presence in the file, when she could see it with her own eyes?

It is Ann who asks, "Why are _you_ in here?"

"On that day," Makoto says, and stutters. Haru reaches out and wraps the girl's hand in her own. She smiles at her friend. "On that day, the Principal called me into his office." she nods towards Akira. "Given our relationship at the time, he suspected me of having some involvement with the Phantom Thieves. He wanted your identities. He presented me with this information, and threatened to withhold my Letter of Recommendation until I could definitively name you."

Ann frowns. "If he thought we were all Phantom Thieves, why did he ask you to investigate? That doesn't make any sense."

"I do not believe Principal Kobayakwa had a firm grasp on the situation," Makoto replies.

"He," Akira starts. "He _blackmailed_ you?" He looks over at her.

#

Makoto meets his gaze and sees a little of what she'd hoped to see in his eyes. She nods.

Takamaki, of course, ruins it.

"And so you just went along with it?"

His eyes harden. _No_ , she thinks, and curses herself for thinking it. _Not yet. Please don't doubt me yet_. She wills him to remember just a few hours ago, when they'd worked so well together and for a short time, they'd just been two teenagers caught up in a ridiculous game on television.

"I did not," Makoto declares. "Though, of course – at the time – I said I would." She tries to lead him back to the logic. "You may recall my sister's presence at Shujin the following day? I believe she warned you to stay away from me?"

Akira smiles a little. "An order I have a hard time following."

_It's not exactly trust but I'll take it_. She returns the grin. "Evidently."

"Hey," he tells her. " _You're_ in _my_ place, remember?"

Takamaki groans and rolls her eyes. "Seriously?"

Haru pats her hand. "I believe there ample time for, um, _all that_ , later."

Makoto shares a look at Akira, and she can almost tell that he's thinking the exact same thing she is. _If only-_ But she shuts that thought down because Haru is right.

"Well, Sae came to the school to set Kobayakawa straight."

Akira's eyes widen. White breaks out across his face. "Wait, wait, wait," he says. " _Sae_ knows about this?"

"Sae knows," Makoto begins, gingerly, "that I was blackmailed, by the Principal, to spy on my classmates. She does not know about the Phantom Thieves aspect of it."

"You're sure?" He asks.

"Yes," she replies.

"No, but you're sure?" He repeats.

"Yes," she growls.

"But-"

"Oh for God's sake," Makoto replies, and throws her hands in the air. "Do you seriously think you'd be sitting here, talking to me right now, if I'd told Sis about all that?"

Akira mulls this over. "Fair point," he says. "I'd probably be in some gulag in Russia or something."

" _Anyway_ ," Makoto continues. "She straightened that all out. She told him, in no uncertain terms, that I would not be blackmailed. And that was that.”

A look slides onto Akira’s face, and she reads it as him having a hard time believing Sae ‘straightened’ everything out.

"Wait a second," Ann says. She extends a hand and slides the file a few inches closer to herself. "If that's true, then why were you still following us around?"

Akira's eyes harden further. "Yeah, I'm interested in how you'll explain Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu."

Makoto opens her mouth, but Haru cuts in. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we're getting a bit off track."

"Off track?" Both Akira and Ann ask.

She gives a compact nod. "Yes. We asked for your word that no harm would come to us. We have yet to receive this."

Makoto straightens in her seat. "Haru and I walk out of here, unscathed." Akira glances around the cafe in a look that says, 'Just where do you think you are?' She continues, "And we suffer no retribution."

"This is so-" Ann starts.

"Fine," Akira declares, his voice steady and calm. "You want my word, you've got it. Everything you just said. No scathing. No retribution. No whatever."

Makoto nods.

Haru nods.

"Well," her friend says. "First of all, you got the name wrong."

#

Akira's mind races.

_Makoto took the file. That's why we couldn't find it. Makoto took the freaking file! And she's in it! But couldn't she have just added herself to it later, to make it look like she was in there all along?_

And who could say this was the original file? You could buy a whole sheaf of files like this one at any office supply store. Makoto no doubt had access to student records, and could reconstruct it if she wished to.

He wants to believe her.

He believes she is telling the truth.

But he can't tell if it's his guts and reason telling him this, or something else that's far too biased.

Haru continues speaking. "It's not 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu.' It's 'Operation Destroy Akira Kurusu Or Something Less Drastic.'" She lifts up her cup of coffee. "And I'm afraid that was mostly my fault. I came up with the name 'Destroy Akira Kurusu,' after Makoto informed me of your lie about dating. I was, understandably, mind you, upset."

Akira remembers the slashing he'd received via Haru at the flower shop. That was when she'd tried to take Morgana.

"However, Mako-chan is the one who added the 'Or Something Less Drastic,' part." She takes a shallow sip. Swallows. "I apologize if you took it out of context. In truth, the title was little more than a joke."

_A joke?_ He crosses his arms. "Pretty extreme for a joke."

Makoto's eyes narrow. He feels himself wilting beneath it, but stays firm. "Extreme as in how you lied about dating Takamaki?"

"I'm right here," Ann growls.

Akira doesn't let her take her pot shot unanswered. "I'd say, it's less extreme then when you decided to visit Shiho."

Her face falls and something in Akira's ribcage flops over, but he doesn't let his face shift.

"Yeah," Ann says, jumping into the silence that's opened. "Was that a joke too?"

"And," Akira says, trying to get things back on track. "You still haven't told us why you were investigating us in the first place. If it wasn't for the Principal, then why?"

"I..." Makoto starts, then stops. She stares at her cup of coffee, but makes no move to pick it up. Then she says, "I was worried."

Ann crosses her arms, mimicking Akira. "You've got a funny way of showing worry," she says.

Makoto lifts a hand and runs it through her hair. Her face has gone a degree paler. _Good_ , Akira thinks. _We've pushed her a bit towards the ropes. If we keep going we may be able to get her to tell us what she knows without giving too much away_. Maybe there was a way out of this after all.

Still, a part of him wants to reach out towards her. Rest his hand on top of hers. Tell her-

He shuts that part of himself up. _Focus_.

"I believed you were the Phantom Thieves," Makoto says. "It always felt a bit obvious to me. True, I had no idea _how_ you were the Phantom Thieves, but I couldn't shake it. And, well, I thought I could help." She looks up. At him. "Not the Phantom Thieves. You." Akira wants to swallow, as his throat is dry, but he keeps himself calm and quiet. "I didn't want you to get expelled, and you came so close with Kamoshida. If Principal Kobayakawa suspected you, then it was only a matter of time. I thought, if I could figure the whole thing out, then somehow, I'd be able to help you."

"Help me?" He asks. He feels his control start to slip. "You stalked me. You kept tabs on my locations, kept a notebook of all my activities. You went to see Shiho in the hospital and-"

"I know!" Makoto says, eyes. "I know, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I just felt so confused and I-"

A sudden flush of anger overtakes him. "Why didn't you say anything to me?" He asks. "All this stuff about wanting to help me, but you didn't even talk to me?"

Makoto shakes her head. "You wouldn't have said anything. You would've evaded it, like you always do."

He lets out a groan. "I thought you were investigating me for Kobayakawa."

Her look shifts and a part of him melts. "Did you honestly think I'd turn on you?"

He shakes his head. "How did I know? If you'd come clean-"

"I was going to. That Sunday at Shujin," she shouts. She points at Ann. "But then you and Takamaki pulled that 'we've been secretly dating' stunt and I got so _mad!_ "

_Keep going_.

"So you thought, 'What the hell, I'll keep investigating anyway?' How would that _help_ me? You should've stayed away."

"Um, guys?" Ann says.

"I couldn't," Makoto yells. "And anyway, you could've come clean. You could've confided in me. Come and told me everything and-"

Akira rolls his eyes. "Right, like you would've believed me."

Makoto scowls. "I would have!"

"Mako-chan?" Haru whispers.

"Bullshit," Akira hisses. "You would've believed all this? That Morgana was a talking cat? That we can change hearts?"

Makoto bites her lower lip, glances away and says, "If it came from you, then I would've-"

"Oh, come on, Makoto! You really would've believed all that? Would've believed that I was a _Phantom Thief?_ "

Makoto is silent for a time. He watches as her face shifts from pained, to anger, and back to a kind of resolute calmness. She folds her hands together and asks, "Is that a confession?"

Akira’s jaw soon begins to ache. He unclenches it, reaches towards Ann, and taps the file. “Is this what you wanted to _exchange?_ Because aside from your own profile, we already knew what was in it.”

Makoto’s lips form a thin slash across her face. She composes herself further and says, “No. That is not all. Two nights ago, Haru and I encountered someone in Shibuya. I believe you will find what they had to say, very interesting.”

#

Makoto watches as Akira tries to piece together their contact all on his own. _Let him wonder. Let him stew._ The anger still rattles in her chest. “This was,” she continues. “Right after we returned from Mementos.”

Haru holds up her hand. “We’re still not sure what you did to my phone, but if you tried to remove the app, it didn’t work. Our theory,” and she nods at Haru, “is that when you sent me there, Akira, the app somehow installed itself on my phone. Knowing this, Takamaki volunteered to help Mako-chan look for me and-“

“That’s not true,” Takamaki cuts in. Makoto blinks. The girl’s gaze is set. “I didn’t know you were there.” She fixes her eyes on Makoto’s and jerks her head towards her. “I helped you look because you seemed real freaked out.” She lifts her hands in mock defense. “Oh, I know. _Everything_ we do is somehow all about fooling you, so you probably won’t believe me or whatever. Fine. But that’s what it was. Niijima, you looked like you were about to cry. So I helped.” She shrugs and slumps back in her seat, arms crossed. “Last time I do that.”

Makoto opens her mouth. “I-“

Akira cuts her off. “This isn’t a game, like following me around Shibuya. Don’t go there anymore. It’s incredibly dangerous.” He turns to Haru. “You should get a new phone. Throw your current one in the Bay, or microwave it, or do whatever. Just don’t use it.”

Haru glances at her. Makoto gives a slight shake of her head, and says, “I think an explanation into the orig-“

“No,” Akira says. “You wanted a promise from me, and you got it. Now, I want a promise from you. You do not use that anymore. Mementos is dangerous and you don’t know what you’re doing there.”

Makoto considers this. _In truth, we don’t need to go to Mementos anymore. We know it exists and that’s enough_. She nods. “Very well. Haru and I won’t use the application anymore.”

Akira’s shoulders visibly droop. Exhaustion worms its way across his face for a split second, before it leaves and he shakes himself back straight. “Good. Thanks.”

_I’ve got to take control of this. They still haven’t admitted to being the Phantom Thieves yet!_ She channels as much Sae into her voice as she can. “Let’s settle this, once and for all. We came for information, and you want the information we have.”

Akira shrugs. “How do I know we want the information you have? I don’t have any idea what it is. It could mean nothing to me.”

Makoto doesn’t let herself smile. “If you knew what it was, you wouldn’t need it. It’s imperative to your continued operations. So, tell us, once and for all, are you Phantom Thieves?”

Akira leans towards her, eyes unblinking. “And if I tell you what you want to hear, if I tell you what you already suspect, what then? Will you turn me in? Report me?”

Something claws inside Makoto’s ribcage. _Still?_ She leans over the table herself and opens her mouth, but Haru clears her throat.

“I think,” her friend begins. “That what we have here, is a failure to communicate. Akira, please look at me.”

He does.

“I think we can all understand how Mona-chan’s interpretation of the meeting between Makoto and Principal Kobayakawa led you all,” and she nods towards Akira and Ann, “to suspect her of trying to entrap you. But you should know, that Mako-chan only did what she did with the best of intentions.” She pats her friend’s hand. “She has, admittedly, made some mistakes. However, she began her investigation with the ultimate goal of protecting you all. If you don’t believe that, Akira-kun, then you are stubborn to the point of absurdity.” Akira blinks. Haru reaches down and takes a sip of coffee.

_Damn straight_ , Makoto thinks.

“That may be-“ Akira starts.

Haru cuts him off again. “Furthermore, we were both significantly upset over the _Makoto Deception,_ and-“

“The what?” Ann asks.

Akira mumbles to her, “That’s Haru’s name for the lie we told Makoto.”

“Oh.”

Haru clears her voice in a tone that says she will not be interrupted again. “We were both upset, and at that point our investigation changed directions. Our goal became muddled. But, with everything Mako-chan has told you, and everything you’ve seen, you should understand by now that we have never directly opposed the Phantom Thieves, and never intended to turn you over to the authorities.”

Akira leans towards her. “And how can we believe that?”

“Because,” Haru says. “You are not sitting in a jail cell, Akira-kun.”

Makoto decides to strike the final blow of the hammer. “My sister is a Public Prosecutor. Haru’s phone can access Mementos. Don’t you think we could go to Sae, show it to her, and say we got it from you? She’d believe us.” As if in response, Haru pulls out her phone and sets it on the table. Makoto prods it with her finger. “This is evidence, but it’s here, with us.” She stands up in the booth then, and leans across the table, a scowl on her face. “So get this through your head, Akira. _We are not going to turn you in._ ”

Akira meets her gaze, and she watches all the many things play out in his eyes.

_Come on_ , she wills him. _Come on. Believe me!_

A faint vibration sounds from Akira’s pocket. He looks away, and pulls out his phone. Makoto groans inside her mind. _Seriously?_ “Can’t it wait?” She asks.

“It’s Ryuji,” he mutters, and Makoto can tell he’s exclusively talking to Ann.

Her eyes widen. “Something’s wrong?”

He answers the phone. “Hello?”

Maybe it’s the quiet of the café. Maybe it’s the intensity of Sakamoto’s voice, but Makoto can hear the boy on the other line as he shouts. “Dude! Incoming!”

Akira has to hold the phone away from his ear. “What?” He shouts.

Makoto tries to listen. “Incoming, du….couldn’t intercept… contact… ten seconds!”

“Who is it?” Akira shouts, and stands in his seat.

Takamaki shoots up, pale. “What’s going on?” She demands.

He levels a glare at Makoto. “What did you _do_?” He hisses.

Makoto remembers the nurse in Suzui’s hospital room. _What did you do?_

LeBlanc’s door swings open.

_“Kurusu!”_ Screams a female voice.

Makoto twists in her seat.

The woman who approaches them looks… odd. Sunglasses wrapped up in dark black hair. A funky looking t-shirt. Faded jeans. Makoto tries to take in the whole of the wardrobe, but it’s _a lot._

“Oh shit,” Akira whispers, and Makoto glances back at him. He holds his phone from limp fingers. He scoots out of the booth, shooing Takamaki out of his way.

“Akira Kurusu,” the woman screeches and comes to a stop alongside the table. “I’ve got a skeleton to pick with you.”

“Um,” Akira replies. “Hey.”

“Hey?” The woman growls. “ _Hey?_ ” She looks down at Haru. “This is all he has to say to me? You’ve got some explaining to do and…” She trails off. She looks at Takamaki. Then at Haru. Then settles her gaze on Makoto. Makoto meets it. “Is this some kind of harem thing?”

A noise escapes Akira’s mouth that is somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

“What?” Ann asks, red faced. “Gross!”

“Oh, my.” Haru shakes her head and takes another sip of coffee to cover her red cheeks.

Makoto will not be baited by some stranger. “Akira, who is this woman?”

She crosses her arms. “I’m his cousin.”

Akira removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “No, you’re not.”

“Fine,” she states. “I’m his girlfriend.”

Haru spits coffee out on the table.

“Oh,” she says, clapping her hands over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” She shoots out of her seat, making her way towards the napkin dispenser at the bar. “Please, let me clean that up.”

_Unbelievable._ Makoto crosses her arms. “Are you seriously trying to pull this trick, _again_?”

Akira shakes his head and pats the air. “No, listen. She’s not my girlfriend, either. She’s my… friend.” He turns to her. “I know what you’re going to say, but this really isn’t a good time. This is literally the worst of all the times. Waking me up at 3 AM in the middle of the night would be a better time than this right now.”

“We had a deal.”

“And I’m not reneging. I’ve been busy and-“

The woman reaches into pocket and pulls out her phone. “Oh, I know all about how busy you’ve been, Akira! Did you forget?” She jiggles her phone in the air. “I’ve got your phone tracked. So I know all about your little clandestine bullshit.”

_Wait, what? She tracks his phone?_

“Akira,” she finds herself saying. “Why is this woman tracking your phone?”

“Okay,” Akira says. He reaches out and takes ahold of the woman’s arm. “Everyone hang out here for a bit. We’re just gonna step outside for a minute.”

The woman shakes free and follows, eyes narrow. The door jingles shut behind them. Haru finishes mopping up the regurgitated coffee, and sits back down next to Makoto. Takamaki slides back into her seat, across from them, an uncomfortable look on her face.

Makoto folds her hands together. “Care to tell us who _that_ was?”

Takamaki squirms a bit. She doesn’t look as confidant with Akira gone. “It’s… complicated.”

Makoto shakes her head. “It always is.”

#

Akira spins around towards her, and jerks his head towards the sign. “Didn’t you see the ‘Closed’ sign?”

Ohya scoffs out a humorless laugh. “Right. Like that’d apply to me.”

Akira stares at her face. Her cheeks are redder than usual. “Are you drunk?”

Ohya scowls at him. “No, I’m pissed. What the hell happened to our deal? No Good Tora, remember?”

“I know,” he sighs. “But like I said, I’ve been busy.”

“Right,” she drawls. “Too busy hanging out with ex-yakuza and The Plague.”

The words mean so little to him he can’t even comprehend them for a moment. “I… what?”

She jabs a finger in his face. “You want to deny it? Go for it. Deny it!”

He spreads his arms wide. “Okay, I deny it. I don’t what the hell you’re talking about!”

“Hah!” She barks, and holds up her camera. She turns it around so Akira can see the viewer. She scrolls through some photos, one at a time. Akira sees himself. Sees Takemi. Sees Iwai and Kaoru. All in the side street from the night before. “Want to keep denying it?”

“Ohya,” Akira says, slowly. “Let’s skip over the part where I yell at you for stalking me, since I know you don’t care about invading my privacy, and get to the part where I tell you that I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ohya taps her fingernail against the screen, right over Iwai’s face. “Munehisa Iwai. Former enforcer for the Dragon syndicate.” She shifts her index over to Takemi. “Doctor Tae Takemi, also known as The Plague. Shunned in the medical community for her unethical practices, not to mention her mortality rate.”

Akira stares at the pictures, and looks back up at her. Ohya seemed so expectant. _Does she really think I knew all of that? And is this even true?_ It didn’t make sense. Except, it kind of did. “Ohya, Takemi-san is my friend, and she’s a regular here.” He nods back towards LeBlanc. “Her clinic is right down the street. Iwai owns a shop in Shibuya that I hang out at sometimes. My friends and I buy model guns there. He asked me to watch his son for a few hours, so I took him to Doctor Takemi’s. I don’t see how-“

“You expect me to believe that an ex-yakuza enforcer, asked you to babysit his son, and your plan involved taking him to a clinic down the street from your own home? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“That’s what happened!”

“Are you on drugs?” Ohya asks, and suddenly slings her camera back over her shoulder, grabs Akira’s face and forces back his eyelids. “Is that what this is? Is The Plague selling you drugs?”

Akira shoves himself free and shakes his head. “No, I’m not on drugs! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“That’s exactly what someone on drugs would say!”

“I’m not-“

“I’ve been calling and texting you, and do I get anything more than a cursory response?” She throws her hands in the air. “Nope. Just another, ‘Oh, I’m so busy, Ohya. I can’t possibly honor the deal we made because I’m too busy babysitting for gangsters and hanging out with blacklisted doctors.’ It’s bullshit.”

Akira feels something rising in him. “How many times do I have to say it? I’ve been busy and-“

“Oh, poor you,” Ohya spits.

“What do you want me to say?” Akira shouts. “I’m sorry we haven’t been hanging out lately. I’m sorry we haven’t been looking for scoops or whatever the hell it is you want me to do. I’m sorry I can’t take the time to dick around with some geriatric, washed up politician whenever it’s convenient for you! I’ve got other shit that I’ve got to deal with, and it doesn’t always involve you! I’m not backing out of our deal, but if you could give me some _fucking space_ so that I can handle it, then things would go a lot smoother.”

_Great, now she’ll really let me have it._

He waits for the comeback. Waits for the sting of her words and her bite and the fury he’s sure she’s about to unleash.

There’s none.

Ohya just stares at him. There’s no scowl. She just stares at him.

“Right,” she says, finally. “It’s too bad that my deadlines don’t give a shit about your schedule.” There’s no animosity. Akira doesn’t know what to do. He’s never heard her like this before. She sounds so… normal. “I looked into your Principal some more. I’ve got some information for you. It’s yours if you help me out. No Good Tora will be talking tomorrow night at Shibuya. Meet with me beforehand, and I’ll brief you. If you can’t make it, for any reason,” and she shrugs, “then it’s all off. And I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Ohya, look,” Akira says, a pang in his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out, I just-“

“Spare me,” she grumbles, and turns. “I don’t know what you’re into, Akira. I wish I did, but I don’t. But be careful. Munehisa Iwai _is_ former yakuza. Doctor Takemi _is_ for all intents and purposes, blacklisted in the medical community.” She starts to walk away. “But what do I know?”

“Ohya, come on, I-“

“You’re busy, remember?” She snaps and waves her hand towards LeBlanc. “All those pretty girls are waiting for you. Tomorrow. I’ll text you the details.”

Akira watches her walk away. _Why the hell did I say all that shit?_ True, Ohya drove him nuts sometimes, but she was his friend! “I’ll be there,” he calls after her. “I promise.”

“Good,” Ohya calls back. “I’d hate to think you were a liar.”

Akira watches her leave, and then he turns and walks back into LeBlanc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the inevitable Akira and Makoto meet-up, because it's not over yet.
> 
> Just a head's up, I should still be able to post next Friday, but a couple of issues have popped up between now and then. If I need to delay the post, I'll probably post about it in the Ao3 comments or over on Twitter. You can find the link to the latter on my Ao3 profile.
> 
> Thanks everyone, and I hope you all enjoy your weekend!


	70. Disclosures and Confessions

Akira steps through the chime of the door, and the eyes of all three girls swivel toward him, from where they've remained seated in the booth. Whatever haggard look he is sure he wears, it is enough for Ann to slip her seat and - head tilted forward - speed her way to him.

She stops and blocks his body from Makoto and Haru's eyes. "Hey," she whispers. "You okay?"

Akira turns to the bar, and slumps both his forearms across it. "I'm guessing you heard all of that?"

Ann shrugs and smiles, but says, "Well, just the yelling part."

He lowers his head until it rests on his arms. The frames of his glasses push into his skin. "Why'd I do that?"

She settles a hand on his shoulder. "You're really stressed. It didn't help that she showed up today, of all days."

He rolls his head and stares up at her. "She's my friend. Sort of."

"Akira," Ann says, voice stern but low. She glances back towards the two girls, faces a mix of confusion, concern, and a bit of impatience. "Listen. I think we should tell them."

Akira whips his brain back into focus. "Seriously?" He whispers.

"They've got a point," she continues. "They know about the Metaverse. They know about Morgana. I think there's less stuff that they don't know about than stuff that they do." She frowns, as if unsure of what she's just said, then nods. "I mean, why wouldn't they just turn us in?"

He looks past her to the two girls, bathed in the soft light of LeBlanc's late afternoon. "What about Shi-"

"I haven't forgiven that," Ann cuts. "But I don't know, Akira. I don't think they'll hand us over to the cops."

Something shifts loose in his chest, but he reminds himself of what he has to lose. "I don't think they will either. But how can we tell? How do we know?"

"I mean," Ann starts, and drifts off, casting for the right thing to say before giving up and sputtering, "We don't. I just think it's time for this whole thing between us to end."

Akira pulls his phone from his pocket. "Maybe we should've asked Ryuji to lock us all in a closet."

Ann giggles, then asks, "What're you doing?"

Giddiness jitters through him. "I agree with you," he says. "We can tell them, but only if everyone agrees to it first." He smiles at her. "This is me running things by you guys."

He sends out the message, then nods towards the two girls. "Mind waiting with them for a few more minutes, while I get everyone together?"

"Sure. That won't be awkward." Akira opens his mouth but Ann pats the air. "It's fine, it's fine. I'll do it."

"Thanks," Akira sighs. He pushes himself away from the bar, and faces the two girls. "I know this is going to seem suspicious," he tells them. "But I'm going to step outside for another minute. I won't be long, and I promise I'll be right back."

Haru's glance at Makoto defers to her, and the latter hesitates a moment before, "Alright."

He turns and marches outside, without looking back.

#

Morgana harbors the only doubts, aside from Akira's own. "You just want to tell them?" He asks. "Just, come right out and say it?"

Akira reiterates Ann's argument. "The only thing left to tell is the truth," he concludes. "Then we can be done with this."

The three boys, plus cat, huddle in one of Yongen-jaya's many abandoned lots of cracked concrete and sprouting weeds. Somewhere nearby, a radio broadcasts what sounds like a baseball game, but Akira cannot spot the source.

Ryuji heaves out a long sigh. "Honestly, dude, I'll just be glad when this shit is over."

"Indeed," Yusuke declares, and nods his consent. "We are still without clues regarding Sensei's killer. Perhaps the information these two possess could point us in the correct direction."

Akira doubts Makoto and Haru's intel is _that_ good, but he sees no reason to state - in this mind - the obvious.

Ryuji turns to Morgana. "Besides, if we tell em the truth, then we don't have to make all these batshit plans anymore."

Morgana settles back on his haunches and frowns. "Well, it would be nice to actually get back to some Phantom Thieving. Preparing for Mementos would be easier without the threat of Makoto and Haru hovering over us." He spreads his paws into the approximation of a shrug. "Fine. But this better not backfire."

Akira hunches over so the cat can leap up onto his shoulder. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm sure it'll backfire somehow."

His phone vibrates. He straightens and pulls it out to find a message from Ann.

**_ANN_ ** _: Boss just showed up!_

"See?" He asks, and shows the text to his friends.

The Thieves beeline from the vacant plot and turn the corner towards LeBlanc.

When they enter, they find the three girls not in the booth, but seated at the bar.

Sojiro mans it, a savvy smile on his face. Akira can smell the beginnings of a pot of curry.

As one, the four turn to him.

"About time you got back," Sojiro growls. "You just up and left the place unattended?" He nods to the three girls. "No offense, ladies."

"None taken," Makoto answers, in a cool voice. "I agree. It was very irresponsible."

Akira keeps the biting remark behind his teeth, gathers his thoughts, and says, "I thought you weren't coming home until later?"

Sojiro jerks his head towards two bags of groceries that lay slung upon the bar. "It _is_ later, kid. I said I would be gone for the afternoon. Not the whole day."

Akira slides out his phone and checks the time. It is getting later.

Boss' smile grows, and he says, "Oh, Yusuke. Didn't see you there. How've you been?"

Said boy steps free from the group and inclines his head. "Very well, Sakura-san. Thank you. I trust you have been keeping up with your studies?"

Akira blinks and turns back to his friend. "Studies?"

"Ah, yes. I forgot to mention it to you. Boss expressed some interest in the arts, so I assigned him numerous texts with which he could educate himself on the finest of all-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Akira says, and waves his hands through the air. "Seriously?"

"Something wrong with that?" Sojiro asks, then softens his expression. "Sorry, Yusuke. I didn't get a chance to peruse any of them. I'll be sure-"

Yusuke stomps a single foot forward. "They are not meant to be _perused!_ They are to be _consumed!_ "

Morgana hisses in Akira's ear. "We're getting off topic here."

"Right." He claps his hands together and smiles at the girls. "Sorry about that. Guy talk and all. Now that Boss is back, maybe we should continue our study session upstairs?"

Makoto stiffens for a moment, before she physically relaxes herself and gives a nonchalant nod as if to say, 'Fine by me.'

Haru stands and says, "Certainly." She turns to Sojiro and bows. Makoto stands and follows suit. "Thank you for having us, sir."

Akira powerwalks his way down the length of the bar, but as he passes Sojiro, the man asks, "Study session means _study_ session, yeah?"

He affixes his best, most earnest smile, and says, "Of course."

Akira, Morgana and Ann - who hops off her stool - lead the way up the stairs. Makoto and Haru follow, with Ryuji and Yusuke bringing up the rear.

#

Makoto knows she is in Akira Kurusu's room. She accepts this. She does not let this mean anything to her. She knows there are more important things to consider. Nonetheless, she drinks in as much as she can before the meeting continues.

There is not much to see.

_He really does live in an attic_.

Haru's eyes nearly sparkle. "I love it," she exclaims.

"Seriously?" Akira asks, his face a slight and delightful red.

Haru pumps out a few vehement nods. "It's got such personality!"

_Say something! Say something!_ Makoto coughs her throat clear. "There is a certain décor to it, I suppose."

The truth is, she doesn't understand what personality Haru refers to. There's little decoration, aside from the _Sayuri_ copy in the corner. A bed with store brand sheets. A desk with little on it. Shelves void of anything. And though she cannot see it from her present angle, she is sure she spied a box marked, 'Clothes,' shoved under something as she entered. She finds this sad, for some reason.

A smile fishhooks the corner of Akira's mouth. "You don't have to mince words."

She flattens him with a look, and readies a scathing volley, but thinks better of it and just shrugs.

The grin fades from Akira's face, and he gestures towards the couch. "Please. Have a seat."

They do, and Makoto forces her mind to re-focus. "I believe," she declares, before Akira can start. "Introductions are in order." She looks pointedly towards the boy who stands before the replica of the _Sayuri_. The same boy they had passed on their way to LeBlanc. The one who had been studying the skyline through a box he'd made of his fingers. The same boy Sojiro Sakura had named, 'Yusuke.'

Akira glances over at him. The boy meets his gaze, his face blank. "I'm pretty sure," Akira says. "You've already figured out who that is."

Makoto can feel Haru turn to her. "Mako-chan?"

She leans back on the couch and crosses her arms. "You may be giving me too much credit. I don't know who he is specifically. But, given where he's standing, and seeing as how he seemed rather animate about art, I'd guess that he's one of Ichiryusai Madarame's apprentices."

Akira opens his mouth, but Yusuke speaks into it. " _Former_ apprentice," he declares, and bows. "I am Yusuke Kitagawa. And you are Makoto Niijima and Haru Okumura. Permit me to say that your beauty - well-espoused by Akira, here - is truly something to behold."

Makoto feels the heat in her neck rising to her face, but Haru seems nonplussed. "Thank you very much, Yusuke-kun," her friend replies.

Kitagawa throws his hands wide. "Now that pleasantries have been exchanged, I propose-"

"Nope!" Sakamoto shouts, and stands from where he'd been sitting on the bed.

"I beg pardon?" The boy asks, looking affronted.

"You ain't gonna ask them to be models right now, bro." Sakamoto fixes him with a glare. "We've got more important shit to talk about."

"Seriously," Takamaki puts in. The two blondes have planted themselves side by side on Akira's bed. They'd been sitting much closer than Makoto would've pictured them. _I wonder if Sakamoto really did ask Takamaki out._

Even the cat pipes up. "Mrrow," he mewls, scowling at Kitagawa. "Mwrh."

The boy huffs, and turns back to the painting. "Profaners. The lot of you."

Akira, silent through this exchange, pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes. "Yeah, so that's Yusuke. He used to live in one of Madarame's ateliers."

"Which explains," Makoto says. "Your connection to him."

A soft smirk. "Close." He lowers his glasses, reaches up, and strokes the head of the cat who still remains perched on his shoulder. "And you've already met Morgana."

"Mrrrow. Prrrr."

Haru glances at her feet. "Yes, it is good to see you again, Mona-chan."

"Wait," Makoto puts in. "Did he just say something?"

Haru looks over at her and blinks. "Oh, that's right. You can't understand him. Yes, he's been talking this whole time."

Makoto swallows and turns back to the animal. It meets her look with one of its own, almost daring her to say something. "It's nice," she starts. "To, um, make your acquaintance, Morgana." _I can't believe I'm doing this_.

The cat replies with a steady string of high-pitched mewls. Sakamoto chuckles from where he sits, and Takamaki hides her grin with her hand. Akira smiles, and looks at Haru, who has turned a bit red. "Do you want to translate, or should I?"

"Perhaps it would be best if you did," Haru squeaks.

"Alright. Morgana just pointed out that this is technically the third time you've met. The last time, you tried to kidnap him."

Kitagawa titters. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, _catnapped_?" The room turns to stare at him. His delighted smile twists across his face. "You understand? _Catnapped_ , yes? Similar to kidnapped, but I replaced the first part with-"

"We get it, Yusuke," Akira cuts in.

Makoto straightens in her seat, but tries not to do it too quickly. "Well, that may be true. But the first time we did meet, he stole my notebook."

Akira smirks. "You mean the one you used to keep tabs on me? That's not a point in your favor."

"Regardless, I-"

"Hold it." Akira holds up a hand. "Let me say something first. Okay?"

Makoto frowns and makes to cross her arms, but realizes they already are. "Very well."

Akira holds her gaze, and - his face utterly blank - says, "We are the Phantom Thieves."

In the pregnant silence, Makoto doesn't allow herself to blink as she searches Akira's face for the newest deception. "You're the Phantom Thieves." It is not a question.

Akira nods, without breaking eye contact. "Yes, we are."

Ten seconds pass.

The breath that leaves her takes with it all her strength, and she dips forward and drops her hands to her knees to steady herself. Haru's hand is on her shoulder in a heartbeat, and she whispers, "Mako-chan," before Makoto can assure her she's fine. She can't hear the words she uses.

_I was right. About everything. Sis. Dad. I was right_.

A cocktail of relief, exhaustion, anger, and bewilderment rockets through her bloodstream, but she remains seated. When she finally does look back up at Akira, his face is expectant and timid. She can't tell if it makes him look younger or older.

"Tell me," she says. "How?"

#

Akira tells her the truth. Most of the truth. A significant portion of the truth. He begins with his first day in Tokyo, and as the tale unfolds from his mouth, he realizes just how long and outrageous his last two months have been. Discovering the Metaverse. Morgana. Kamoshida. Mementos. Madarame. He skips over the subway crash. The dying man in the hotel. He downplays his reluctance to become the leader of the Phantom Thieves, to the point where it's barely detectable throughout. He leaves out Takemi, and his relationship with Ohya is described in the simplest of terms. Nonetheless, it is a lengthy, twisting, bizarre tale, and more than a few times, his friends need to correct his reiteration with minor details. But he tells her the truth. Kamoshida. Nakanohara. Madarame. Daisuke. The lies. Morgana's eavesdropping. Their attempts to throw Makoto and Haru off their trail.

He finishes and Makoto remains seated. She hardly spoke during his story, though she did ask a qualifying question or two. Her nod is slow and solemn. Haru stares up at him, wide-eyed.

"So, are you going to turn us in now?" Akira asks.

Haru's amazement morphs into a glare. "How many times must we say, 'No?’?”

As Akira thinks up a response, Makoto speaks into the silence. "You do realize," she says, face focused on some problem only she could see. "That your earlier point about _not_ killing Madarame is rendered moot by Kitagawa's presence, right?"

A strangled noise escapes Yusuke's throat.

"Your argument," Makoto continues, "revolved around your connection with Kamoshida, and your lack of one with Madarame." She waves her hand in Yusuke's direction. "But there's your connection."

Yusuke takes one staggering step and growls out, "I resent that accusation! We had nothing to do with Sensei's death and-" Makoto holds up a hand. Yusuke's words sputter out.

"It wasn't an accusation," Makoto says. She pats the table before her. "Let me see your phones."

"Why?" Ann asks.

"There may be a way to prove you didn't kill him." No one moves. No one even reaches for their pocket. Makoto rolls her eyes. "You're all the Phantom Thieves, yes?"

They turn to Akira, who watches her, lips a tight line across his face. "We are."

"And you're all of them? There aren't any secret Phantom Thieves hiding elsewhere?"

"We're it."

Makoto pats the table once more. "Let me see your phones then."

Akira takes his from his pocket, and sets it on the table. Yusuke follows suit. Ryuji and Ann glance at one another, then stand together and place theirs' on the table with the others. Makoto shifts them all around, so they face her, and begins to flip through them.

Akira watches her work, her face tight in concentration. She pulls up the app on each of their phones, holds it closer to face to read them, and then glances at the others. Again and again and again.

"Mako-chan?" Haru asks, and Akira can see the girl is starting to look confused. Apparently, Makoto hadn't told Haru she was going to do this. "What're you doing, exactly?"

Makoto leans back, smiling, and says, "You can take them back now." The four Thieves step forward and reclaim their property. "You didn't kill Madarame."

"Uh, yeah," Ann retorts, and spits out a laugh. "We already told you that."

"What makes you so sure?" Akira asks.

"The history of each Navigation app. Each of your phones contained a unique history, or a record of when you were in the Metaverse. Given what you've explained of Palaces and how they work, I imagine that it may be possible to time-delay a confession or a desired reaction. However, the only Palaces you have ever entered are Kamoshida's and Madarame's. The last time you entered Mementos was some time ago - save for when you, Akira, jumped into the Metaverse to escape from Haru. The time before that was roughly around when Daisuke had his change of heart. So, either you were able to set up Madarame's murder from that long ago, or you had nothing to do with his death."

It is Ryuji who whistles. "Damn. You figured all that shit out?"

Haru beams. "That's really smart, Mako-chan."

Akira grins at her. She glances at him, reddens, and looks away. His heart does something akin to a somersault, but as Makoto goes on about how it wasn't really a big deal, and that she just has a good memory, all he can think is, _No mention of Kobayakawa._ Had she harbored suspicions over that too? It was difficult to say.

"You believe us, then?" He asks, content to let the matter sit until another time.

Makoto nods. "I do."

"Good," he replies, and crosses his arms. "Now, about that information exchange?"

Makoto blinks. "Oh, of course."

Haru, a concerned look on her face, asks, "Would you like me to tell it, Mako-chan?"

"That's alright," Makoto counters, and pats her friend's hand. "I'll explain." She sweeps her gaze over the four teenagers. "The SIU has officially begun its investigation into the Phantom Thieves."

"What's the SIU?" Ryuji asks.

Makoto blanches. "The Special Investigations Unit? They're an elite unit of detectives and prosecutors under the umbrella of the police."

Ryuji blinks. "Oh, shit."

Akira frowns and leans back against the empty shelves. _Only one place she could've gotten that information_. "I'm assuming you heard this from your sister?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, actually. We heard it from someone else entirely."

#

It was Goro Akechi.

"Good evening, Niijima-san," he says. A pleasant expression adorns his face, and one gloved hand is raised in greeting. "I apologize if I startled you."

Makoto shakes her head. "No, it's fine. I just didn't know you were there." The people of Shibuya continue to drag their feet, oblivious to the three teenagers.

A pained look crosses his face. "Ah, well, I suppose that's my fault. I saw you and came over to say hello, but I should've called out first." He shrugs. "If you don't mind my asking, are you alright? You look somewhat pale."

Given that Makoto and Haru had just exited Mementos, she figures this is a very natural way to look.

She clears her throat. "No, I'm quite alright. Just a bit tired." She turns back to Haru, who watches the exchange with heavy-lidded eyes. "Haru, this is Goro Akechi. He's a detective that works with my sister." She glances back at him. "This is my friend, Haru Okumura."

"Okumura?" Akechi asks. "As in Okumura Foods?"

"That's right."

Akechi blushes and bows. "I'm sorry. That was very rude of me. I was caught off-guard. I had no idea you traveled with such austere company, Niijima-san."

Haru gives a short bow of her own. "If you don't mind my saying, Akechi-kun, I feel as if I've seen you before."

"He's been on television," Makoto states, before Akechi could start his self-effacing. "He's something of a progeny."

Akechi sighs. "I really wish people wouldn't use that word about me. It comes with all kinds of expectations. I do the work I can to the best of my ability. Nothing more, nothing less." He snaps his fingers. It makes an unsettling, muted sound through the glove. "Oh, but you know, there was something I wanted to ask you."

Makoto feels her brows rise. "You had something you wanted to ask _me?_ "

Akechi nods, then glances around, as if afraid of being overheard. "Is your sister doing alright?"

Makoto feels the blush of adrenaline through her skin. "What'd you mean?"

Akechi pats the air with his hands, placating. "It isn't as if she's been off her game," he tells her. "But she has seemed a bit distracted as of late. She lapses into these long silences and I've seen her staring at the same page of notes for significant stretches of time. Ever since the SID opened their investigation into the Phantom Thieves, she's-"

"What?" Makoto asks, at the same time Haru says, "Huh?"

Akechi's eyes widen. "Oh no." His gestures become manic. "Please, _please_ don't tell her I told you that. That's supposed to be confidential. And don't let anyone at Shujin know. The investigation may led there and the last thing we need are students panicking and..." He trails off, then slaps his forehead. "Oh, I'm such an _idiot!_ Forget I said that. Forget I said anything." He lowers his hands, and flashes them both a tired look. "So, um, how have you been? We've that college entrance exam coming up. I trust you've been studying?"

#

Akira listens to Makoto finish her reiteration, and stays silent.

_The SIU has started to investigate the Phantom Thieves. Sae Niijima is somehow involved, as is Goro Akechi. Plus, they've still got their eye on Shujin Academy_.

He keeps his eyes on the floorboards. "Did he say anything else?"

Makoto shakes her head. "No, he didn't."

"What're you thinking?" Morgana asks.

Akira needs time to piece this all together. He can't do that if Makoto and Haru are here. They may have been in on the secret now, but they weren't Phantom Thieves. He pulls out his phone. It's getting closer to his shift at Rafflesia. _Haru's shift too_.

The thought of Haru overturns a stone Akira can't believe he hasn't addressed yet. "I'm thinking," he continues. "That we've got one last thing to talk about." He looks over at Haru.

She answers. "And what would that be?" But she wears the face of someone who knows very well what it will be.

"I think it's time you told us about the guy that attacked you that night."

Ryuji chuckles. "You mean the guy Mona thrashed?"

Ann's eyes widen. "Hey, yeah. What's the deal with that?"

Haru glances at the floor, and Makoto wraps an arm around her. "That wasn't part of the deal," she says.

Akira feels his face scrunch up. "After everything we've told you, I would've thought you'd want to tell us. Maybe we can help."

Haru twitches at the word, and glances up at him. Her eyes are wide and a bit - if he's reading them correctly - hopeful. "Mako-chan," she mutters.

Makoto looks at her, then nods. "We need some privacy."

Akira looks around. "Uh, you know this is my room, right?"

Makoto jerks her head towards the corner. "All of you, go to the corner. And cover Morgana's ears. He's obviously got excellent hearing."

Akira rolls his eyes. "Look, let's cut the crap and-"

" _Now_ ," Makoto states.

The Thieves shuffle over towards the steps, and Makoto and Haru duck their heads together. Akira buries his hands in his pockets and tries not to look anyone in the eye.

"What'd you think they're talking about?" Ryuji asks.

Ann lightly jabs his shoulder. "Duh. They're talking about whether or not to tell us about the guy who attacked Haru."

Ryuji rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I got that. But why?"

"Perhaps there's something personal in this?" Yusuke suggests.

Morgana whispers, "It did seem like the guy knew Haru. I didn't get the impression that it was some random jerk off the street."

"Family member?" Akira asks.

Morgana shakes his head. "I didn't get that impression either." Akira remembers Makoto's orders from a second ago, and reaches up to earmuff the cat. Morgana glares at him.

"It's a little weird they stuck us over here," Ann puts in, a frown on her face. "Seeing that this is your room and all."

Akira shrugs. "What can you do, right?"

Ann mirrors the shrug. "You could say, 'No, this is my room. You can't just shove me in a corner.'"

Akira shakes his head. "Something tells me that wouldn't have gone over well."

The girls break apart and nod at one another. "You may come back now," Makoto states, and the Thieves separate and approach.

 

Akira remains silent as he resumes his spot near the shelves.

"The man you saw me with," Haru says, begrudgingly, "is my fiancé."

For an eternal series of moments, no one says a word. Then, Ryuji blurts out, "For real?"

"Yes," Haru declares. "And what's more, we know he has a Palace."

Another silence, one not even Ryuji can break. Eventually, Akira manages, "You used the app?"

Haru shakes her head. "We didn't even know what a Palace was until you explained it to us. All we said was his name, and the app replied, 'Match Found.'"

"What's his name?" Ann asks.

Haru opens her mouth, and shuts it again. Makoto replies for her. "Understand, that we're hesitant to give that to you."

"Why?" Yusuke counters. "You've already established that we are not killers. What downside is there to giving us this disgusting individual's name?"

"We believe," Makoto puts in, "that there are other ways of-"

Akira cuts her off. "We explained what a Palace is, right? It's what happens when someone's desires become so distorted that they become a danger to others. If this guy already has a Palace, that means he's as dangerous as Kamoshida was."

Makoto glares up at him. "As you know, my sister is a Public Prosecutor and-"

"Then why hasn't she done anything yet?" Akira asks. "If she's an all-powerful Prosecutor, and part of the SIU, why hasn't this asshole been arrested?"

To this, Makoto doesn't reply.

Morgana hops down from Akira's shoulder, pads across the floor and jumps onto the table. He settles down before Haru.

"I was there," the cat murmurs. "I saw what he did. He was crazy. A guy like that is only going to get worse. Much worse. People with Palaces don't just come down on their own. Not unless something drastic happens."

Ryuji stomps his way up to the table. "It's no use dodgin' the questions," he grunts. "You just told us he's got a Palace, so if we have to, we'll follow you around until he shows up again. Mona thrashed him once, he can do it again. We'll get his name."

Morgana glances up at Ryuji, then back to Haru. "That's right. So why don't you save us the trouble and give us the name?"

A frown crosses Makoto's face. "So, even if it goes against her wishes, you'd still try to involve yourselves?"

Yusuke steps forward. "I didn't ask the Phantom Thieves for their help," he says. "But I cannot deny being better off because of it."

Haru remains tightlipped, and Akira watches as she tries to drill a hole through the floorboards with her eyes.

"This _is_ your decision, Haru," he tells her. "No one else's." She looks up at him, and opens her mouth to speak, but Akira keeps going. "You can trust in the system and see where it gets you, which is nowhere so far, or you can let us help you."

Haru sighs. "You're very smart, Akira-kun, no matter how you act sometimes. I'm sure you've thought of this already. My fiancé is not involved in any other crimes. None that I know of, anyway. If I were to request a change of heart on him, it would be another finger pointing at Shujin. At you." Akira doesn't say anything. He has thought of that. But what else is there to do? "But," Haru continues. "If we seek to involve the police and-"

He can't help himself. "And what good are they?" He shrugs. "You're the daughter of a rich CEO, which means the guy you're supposed to marry is probably stratospherically wealthy too. Guys like that don't get dealt with by the police. The cops just look the other way."

Makoto shakes her head. "The law is the law, and you can't know that the police will just turn a blind eye and-"

"I _can_ know that, actually," Akira replies. He jerks his head towards Ryuji and Ann. "Just like everyone in this room. The police didn't give a shit about Kamoshida until he confessed. The same with Madarame. People like Shiho, Yusuke, all of Madarame's other apprentices? No one cared until we stepped in and did something about it."

"The police," Makoto counters, her voice low and wary, "are not some Gestapo henchmen who do whatever the rich and influential want. They-"

"They're what? Defenders of justice? Maybe for some people, but not us. They're like your sister." He regrets the words immediately once they're out of his mouth.

Makoto's eyes narrow. "You have something to say about my sister?" Her tone demands, and rises in volume. "She solves crimes. She puts criminals away. She put _Kamoshida_ away."

Yes, he regrets. But he finds he cannot back down. "Sure, _after_ we did all the heavy lifting. _After_ we changed his heart. _After_ he confessed. Your sister throws her weight around to help herself and you. You know what she's said to me. And apparently she can't help Haru either."

"Guys," Ann says, standing. "I think we're getting off track here."

"I agree," Haru states.

"My sister isn't like that," Makoto counters. "And neither are the police. They-"

"Yes, they are."

" _No, they're not!_ " Makoto shouts, and shoots out of her seat. Akira stiffens. Absolute fury burns on her face. "Stop talking about them like that! Stop talking about my _family_ like that! Sis isn't like that, and neither was my dad!"

Silence.

Akira feels sandpaper against the inside of his throat. _Dad?_

Haru stands up alongside Makoto and rests a hand on her shoulder. "I think we should all calm down. A lot of emotions are coming to a head today, and that's no surprise given what we've all seen and been through." She gently coaxes Makoto back down onto the couch. When her friend is secured, she straightens her back. "However, I would appreciate it if you both could stop coloring my situation with your own personal prejudices."

Akira blinks. Makoto reddens.

"Because," Haru continues. "As you've pointed out, Akira-kun, this is my decision."

Makoto bows her head. "I'm sorry, Haru."

"Yeah," Akira says. "Me too."

The other Thieves remain quiet.

Haru nods. "I appreciate both of your positions. I do believe, Mako-chan, that law enforcement is in a position to help with my situation, but I've yet to see any real progress on that front." She looks up at Akira. "And, Akira-kun, I know if I gave you his name, you would act upon it, but doing so would be like raising a red flag in your direction. We both work at the Rafflesia, after all." She pulls out her phone. "Speaking of, it is almost time for our shift." She stands, and brushes her skirt out. "I think we should get going."

Makoto stands with her. "Are you sure?"

Haru nods. "I am. I would like a little more time to think about this, and then I will make my decision."

Makoto and Akira glance at one another. They both nod. "If that's what you want, Haru," Akira tells her.

"It is," she states, firmly.

With nothing left to discuss, the group turns and heads downstairs.

To find that Sojiro has prepared a few dishes of curry. "It's getting late," he grumbles. "A few of you should at least eat something before you head home." He nods towards Akira. "I know he's got work."

"And I as well," Haru puts in, and bows. "Thank you very much for your kind offer, sir."

Makoto bows as well. "I'm afraid I need to get going too. I've some tasks I need to see to."

Ryuji clears his throat. "Uh, is it cool if I stay?"

"Sure," Sojiro says, and gestures towards the nearest stool. "Have a seat. Ann? Yusuke? How about it?"

"Sure," Ann says.

"With pleasure," Yusuke replies.

Both teenagers finds their seats next to Yusuke.

Morgana, in Akira's bag once more, looks wistfully at the group, but elects to head to work with Akira and Haru.

Everyone says their goodbyes to one another, and Akira can't help but find it all strange. He's never pictured this group together like this. Even after everything said upstairs, after airing all the spats and frustrations, something about it feels right.

The three teens, and cat, step out into the street and Akira nods down the alleyway. "This is the fastest way to the station. Let's go."

Makoto and Haru nod, and follow him into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm back.
> 
> Thanks for your patience. I plan to return to a regular posting schedule, with two posts a week, Monday and Friday.
> 
> I sure did miss you people. As always, thank you so much for reading Crimson!


	71. Impatient Threats

The walk is every bit as awkward as Akira imagined it would be. Despite the miniscule distance between LeBlanc and the Yongen-jaya station, the silence between the three stretches the trip into its own painful eternity.

His thoughts are chaos, shifting from anger to frustration to disgust - at whom, he cannot be sure - to resignation and back again to anger. He cannot hold a single strand still in his mind to tell what it is that frustrates him so much. There are, of course, too many.

One thing he does notice, however, is that his feet slow the more he walks. While they began the journey just short of brisk, now the bottom of his shoes scrape across the concrete. Whether or not Haru or Makoto realize it, they've adjusted their own pace to match his.

He stops. Morgana pops his head out of the bag. "Something up?"

He reasons that barely a handful of minutes has passed since they left the Cafe. "Listen," he murmurs. "About before-"

"Forget it," Makoto states, with a shake of her head.

"I need you guys to hear something." He doesn't want to draw this out. Doesn't want to make it into a whole _thing_. How else can he make them understand?

The first words of the story go like pulled teeth. His pace increases.

It is the story that began before he'd ever even heard of Shujin. It is his story, even if it has no magical cats, no dimension shifting smartphones, no Thieves. It is his story, the one of him walking home late one night, hearing a cry, and turning a corner to find a man trying to push a woman into a car.

"Even from across the street," Akira tells them. "I could smell the alcohol on him. And she was, well, you can probably imagine how she was taking it."

The man had drawled, "C'mon. C'mon. Just... just do it. It's an anniversary." A barking laugh then. Loping.

The woman had shaken her head, protested, backed away, shoved, told him, 'No.' All the things you are supposed to do.

The man didn't care.

"Help!" She'd screamed. "Help!" And it took Akira a moment to realize she was calling to him.

The man rotated towards him with the too careful movements of the drunk. Blurry eyes regarded him behind slightly askew glasses. "Him?" He asked. "What's he going to do?" He had shaken his head then. Slow. Sad. "He can't do anything. No one can."

Akira looks up at the girls. They stand very close to one another, eyes widened just a bit. "I don't remember thinking anything," he says. "I don't remember arguing with myself about what to do, or trying to analyze the best way to handle it. I just remember moving. Moving and reaching."

But then the man was falling and falling.

He hit the ground, and something came back into his eyes.

"After that," Akira says, and shrugs. "He called the police. The cops showed up, and he told them that I'd assaulted them."

Makoto frowns. "But what about the woman he was attacking? Had she run off by the time the police arrived?"

"Nope," Akira replies, and shrugs. "But she did confirm his story."

Haru's mouth drops open. "What? Why?"

Akira feels a smile on his face, but he can't say why. "I don't know. When the police came, the man just kept staring at her. He didn't even say anything. The next thing I knew, she was blabbering on and on about how the cops had shown up just in time, and how they'd saved the two of them from me." He feels Morgana set his two forepaws against his shoulder. "I was so shocked, I didn't even know what to say. They shoved me in the car. Drove off. Put me in a box. And that was that." He gestures towards the alleys of Yongen-jaya. "And here I am."

Neither Makoto nor Haru say anything for a few moments. Then, "So, you didn't assault anyone." This from Makoto, and it isn't a question.

"I didn't do _anything_ wrong. That man did. That woman did when she blamed me. The police did when they arrested me, and they didn't care about my side of the story. The judge did when they sentenced me. No one cared and-"

"What about your parents?" Haru asks.

Akira's words dry in his throat. Then, he smiles and says, "That's a whole other story."

Haru storms forward and wraps Akira in a hug. Morgana yowls in protest from the bag. "That's _horrible!_ " Haru declares.

Akira feels the blood rush to his face. "Haru, I think you're killing Morgana."

"Seriously," the cat hisses. "Let me go!"

"Oh," Haru says, and recoils.

Akira takes a deep breath, milking it a bit. He turns to face Makoto, who looks as if she's swallowed something bitter. "Not so long ago, you said you wanted to know what had happened to me. Now you do."

"I knew it would be unpleasant," Makoto replies, voice low. "I never..." She trails off.

He swallows, and decides to say what's on his mind. "Your Dad was a cop?"

Makoto stiffens at this, but nods. "He was. He, um, died a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," Akira tells her. "I don't know what your Dad was like. Mine was shit, but yours' was probably better, right?" He doesn't wait for her to confirm or deny. "But the police didn't help me. They buried me." He turns now to Haru, and says, "Doing what we do isn't a job for us. We care because we know what it's like to be out of options. You're right when you say that changing your fiancé’s heart would give the authorities another finger to point towards Shujin, but if you want our help, we'll find some way to work it."

"That's right," Morgana says, stretching himself free from the pack to poke his face over Akira's shoulder. "You can count on us."

"I..." Haru starts. "Thank you."

"No problem," Akira replies. He turns back down the alley. "I just wanted you guys to know that. Now you know everything about me."

He starts to walk.

 _Well, maybe not everything_ , he thinks. _But enough_.

#

Makoto trudges along behind Akira. _Oh, please. There's no chance I know everything about you, Akira._

Still, she will not begrudge him this. She knows it must've taken courage for him to share his story and the details ricochet around inside her brain.

They turn out of the alley and approach Yongen-jaya's small station.

 _There has to be an explanation_.

Akira had said he couldn't remember thinking anything. He had just reacted. Perhaps the police arrived and found him still agitated. That could've factored into his arrest.

 _But Akira would've calmed down by the time he arrived at the station. He would've been able to tell his side of the events_.

 _Face it_ , a voice in her mind says.

 _What if the woman feared for her life?_ That was probably true. But she could've recanted at a later time, once she was out of danger. She was a principal witness, and according to the report, would've been one of the victims.

 _She never did change her story. She had ample time to do so, but she didn't_.

She swings her pass-card and walks through the turnstile, followed by Haru.

 _Face it_ , the voice says.

 _If the man was so obviously drunk, the officers should've known his version of events needed to be taken with a grain of salt_.

But there was nothing to indicate they had. But Akira's account, the officers had arrested him on the word of an intoxicated man and a woman with a torn blouse in a dark alley.

They descend the steps and stand behind the yellow line.

 _Face it_ , the voice says. _They screwed him_.

She looks over at Akira as the train pulls into the station. He rests his weight on one leg, and the headlights of the train highlight the circles beneath his eyes.

The doors opens. Haru steps through. Akira goes to follow her, but Makoto reaches out and grabs his sleeve. He glances back at her. She can't quite meet his gaze when she says, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"Thanks," he replies. She lets go of his sleeve and follows him onto the train.

They are in the front car, right alongside the conductor's booth. Makoto chooses the seat next to Haru, and Akira slumps down across from them. The doors close, and the train moves forward.

"My father wouldn't have done that," Makoto tells him. The car is sparsely populated and most of the other riders are further down the car.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replies. "I wasn't trying to knock your Dad or anything. Losing him must've been tough."

She nods. "It was. It still is. You lost yours as well?"

He smirks at this. "That's one way of putting it."

The train shudders.

 _Sore topic then._ He had called him, 'shit,' earlier.

"He was a detective," she tells him. "A good one. He died three years ago, in an accident. A truck driver hit him. He was on drugs."

Akira looks like he doesn't know what to say, and just nods, looking sorry.

"It's difficult sometimes," Haru puts in. "To see past our own experiences. I confess, I sometimes still don't know how to act around people who didn't grow up with the kind of wealth I did."

Makoto smiles and pats her hand. "I think you do a great job."

Akira's smirk grows warmer. "You did get so mad at me one time, you tried to steal Morgana." He blinks. "Then you actually went ahead and stole Morgana."

The cat pops his head out of the bag. "Mrrow."

Akira and Haru laugh.

"Yes," Haru says, blushing. "I suppose so."

 _This is untenable_.

She glances down the length of the car, to ensure they are not being overheard. "I'm wondering," she says, when she's sure it's safe. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you bring me to that other place, so I could learn to understand Morgana?"

Akira frowns. "You promised you wouldn't use the app again."

She waves her hand through the air. "I'm not talking about the app. I'm talking about you bringing me there, and having me hear Morgana speak. We can leave right after, and the distortion will be all cleared up, yes?"

The train lurches, and when Akira straightens himself, says, "I guess it wouldn't be such a bad thing. Understanding Morgana is pretty essential, but then again, why would you need to?"

Makoto can feel the blush in her cheeks. "I-I'm just curious is all. And it would be nice to not be the only person who can understand him."

He glances down at the cat. "What'd you think?"

"Prrrr," Morgana says. "Meow, mrrrow."

Akira nods, and pulls out his phone. "There's still some time left before our shift at Rafflesia. Do you want to do it when we get to Shibuya?"

Makoto hadn't expected it to be so sudden, but she finds herself nodding. "That would be agreeable."

The train jitters and rumbles along, and a murmur passes through the car.

"Um," Haru says, as she turns to peer out the train's window. "Don't you think we're going a little fast?"

#

Before Akira can think to answer, or wonder if they going too fast, the train shudders once more. A passenger, one who had been holding a handrail, falls to the ground with a cry of shock and fear. The sound of dismay spreads among the car's inhabitants.

"What's going on?" Morgana asks, as Akira steadies himself on the chair and looks outside. The train is rocketing down the tracks.

 _In an explosion of screeching metal, screams, dust and pulverized stone, a train barrels out of the subway tunnel, hops the rails, and smashes its way onto the platform_.

He remembers this. It was only his second day in Tokyo. He looks over at Makoto, who doesn't wear the panic of the other passengers, but Haru has her eyes shut tight, hands clenched on the lip of her seat.

He doesn't know who puts a name to it first, but there's a shout from near the back of the car, loud and manic. "Mental shutdown!"

Makoto pales. She looks at Akira, and he looks at her. He tries to stand, but the rumble collapses his body back into his seat. "The train's going to crash," he manages.

"But I thought," Haru's voice is high pitched and fast, "those were all over?"

Akira hasn't given the mental shutdowns much thought since his close call two months earlier. So many things had happened to him since, the accident felt like it was part of another life. Only, there was no way out this time. This time, he was in the goddamn train.

"The conductor," Morgana hisses. "Get the conductor to slow down."

Akira and Makoto shoot from their seats, the latter apparently coming up with the same plan without a cat's assistance, and steady themselves with handrails. Akira staggers his way across the short gulf to the door, and presses himself up against the window of glass or plexi or whatever it is. Into the dark, he shouts, "Hey!"

Just a few feet before him, he can see the stone still mass of the conductor, hand resting on the accelerator - pushed all the way up- and the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders in breathing.

"Open the door," Akira shouts at the same time Makoto slides up next to him and screams, "Slow down!"

Their cries erupt a chorus from the other passengers.

"Slow down, dammit!"

"You're crazy!"

"You’re gonna kill us!"

If the conductor hears, he gives no sign. _I should've paid attention to those news stories,_ Akira thinks. _Maybe there's something that can snap him out of it_.

"This is no good," Makoto says, voice firm but eyes wide in fear. "We've got to get in there."

"How?" Akira asks, and takes a step back from the door. A sudden jolt strips his balance, but Makoto snakes out a hand and steadies him. He spies the lock on the conductor's door. "Morgana," he calls, and turns towards his bag. The cat jumps from the bag and into Akira's arms. "The lock, can you pick it?"

"Who'd you think you're talking to?" The cat boasts, and draws one claw. Akira smiles, if only to muffle the uncertainty he feels from the cat's terrified voice.

Akira brings him up to the lock, and presses him up against it. "No pressure, but make it fast." He looks back through the window, and sees the towering buildings of Shibuya fast approaching. _Never mind. Lots of pressure! Lots of pressure_!

Morgana sets to work, and Makoto leans her body against the door. "The second this is open," she tells Akira, "We've got to rush him." She glances back at Haru. "Haru, we're going to need your help too."

The girl grabs a handrail and hauls herself up. "What do you need?"

"We don't know how strong this man is," Makoto replies. "Or how out of it he is. It may take both myself and Akira to wrestle him away from the controls. Once we do, you need to grab them and bring the train to a halt."

"Should I just pull the accelerator back?" Haru asks.

"Yes," Akira says.

"No!" Makoto shouts. "You have to do it slowly. Decelerating too fast could derail the train anyway. Do it firmly, but gradually."

Haru swallows but steels herself. "God it. You can count on me."

Makoto glances at Akira. "Are you ready?"

Akira doesn't know if it's his adrenaline or the fact that he may be dead in something like fifty-five seconds, but he says, "Do you want-"

But then Morgana interrupts with, "Got it," and the door unlocks.

Akira drops the cat, and throws the door open. The two teens storm in and seize the conductor by the shoulders. Akira yanks, and finds the man as sedentary as a boulder. He tries a few more times, then moves around to push as Makoto continues to pull.

"C'mon man, move it!" He shouts as he comes around him. "You're going to-"

He freezes.

The man's eyes are milk white. From his sockets, nostrils and mouth leaks a black, vile fluid.

Akira's limbs want to move, but they don't.

"Akira!" Makoto shouts, arms hooked around the man's shoulders.

Akira remembers.

 _The old man in the bathroom at the hotel. The one who helped me up. The one who was nice to me_.

He's seen this before. He knows this. Recognizes it.

_This is a mental shutdown?_

If that's true, then...

"Akira!" Makoto shrieks and brings Akira back to reality.

He throws himself at the man's hands, grabs the fingers, and begins to pry them back, one by one. At this, the man conductor exhibits some kind of sensibility, and begins to moan and convulse.

Akira doesn't realize he's shouting until he manages to pull the last finger free from the control, and all three go topping backwards. The man throws open his mouth and screeches out a fountain of black bile. Makoto screams, but doesn't run. Instead, Akira realizes she's shouting in exertion, trying to keep the big man on the ground. Akira rolls over and throws himself over the man's gut.

"Haru," he shouts. "Now!"

Haru dashes into the room, grabs the accelerator, and starts to pull it back. Downwards, downwards. Akira can see the lights of the skyscrapers whipping by, he hears a distressed voice coming from the conductor's walkie talkie.

White as a ghost, Haru brings the accelerator home, just as they slide into the station. The train groans for what feels like forever, then jolts with a single, final movement, and stops.

Akira lays there, panting. Makoto keeps the conductor's wrists pinned. His compulsion unfulfilled, the energy seems to go out of the man, and he slumps still.

Haru peers down at them. "Um, now what?"

Akira's mind races. _We can't be seen here. I can't be seen here. If someone recognizes me or if they realize who I am, I'll get in bigger trouble_. How could he get out of the situation? The car was filled with people watching their every move. Akira's eyes drift up to the control board. He sees a button marked 'Doors.' "Haru," he says. "Please wipe that controller down with your shirt."

"Why?" She asks.

"Fingerprints," Makoto answers. He nods.

Haru does it, quickly.

"Morgana?" Akira asks.

"Here," the cat replies.

"Get in the bag. We're about to run."

"Gotcha."

"What's your plan?" Makoto asks.

Akira smiles, even though he doesn't feel like it. "Follow my lead." He leaps up, presses the button marked 'Doors,' and screams, "Gun! He's got a gun!"

Perhaps most would not be taken in by the absurdity of a gun in Tokyo. But as the people in the car had just defied death, rationality is not at the front of their minds. Someone screams, and Akira bolts from the compartment, grabbing Makoto's arm and dragging her with him. He snatches his bag from the seat and finds that Haru joins them in the crush of people desperate to exit the train. Outside, the people who stare in wonder soon hear the call of, "Gun, gun," and run for it themselves. The platform becomes a panicked ant farm of humans scurrying around, ducking for cover, shoving the pressing and sliding their ways towards wherever they think freedom and safety exist.

Akira runs them through the station, past the people in the corridors, as the mania sweeps over them like a gust. Morgana jostles in his bag as he pushes his way outside and into the sweltering air of the Shibuya night. They retreat to an overpass, and stop, gasping, sweat soaked, and - in Akira's case - shaking from adrenaline.

"Why'd you..." Haru starts, but doubles over, rests her hands on her knees, and gulps more air.

"Security cameras," Akira says. "Everywhere, right? Plus, I didn't want to explain how my cat could pick a lock."

Morgana groans from inside the bag, pulls himself out and drops to the concrete on unsteady legs. He wobbles a bit, then plops down on his haunches.

Makoto lets out a long sigh, and looks between them. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm alright," Haru says. "Just a little shaken."

Akira nods back towards the station. "Work will probably get cancelled. Even though the train didn't crash, people are still freaking out in there."

"I can't believe we did that," Haru replies. "I can't believe we saved the train from that man. What was wrong with him?"

"It must've been a mental shutdown," Makoto continues. "I haven't heard of one happening in a while. Perhaps-"

"I've seen that before," Akira says. He slides down the wall he leans against until he sits. "With the black liquid and eyes."

"You did?" Makoto asks. "Where?"

Akira tells them. "Wait a moment," Haru says. "I've heard about that."

Akira looks up at her. "You have?"

She nods. "Yukio Kan. I heard my father talking about it shortly after it happened. But I thought he had a heart attack?"

Something does a flip in his stomach. "A heart attack?" He pulls out his phone. Searches the name. _Yukio Kan. Heart attack. Simple and quick_.

The first result is just that. Yukio Kan's cause of death hadn't been disclosed for two days until the autopsy could be completed. But, according to the internet, it was a heart attack that killed him.

Akira remembers the black seeping from the eyes, and how he had vomited in the sink. _That wasn't a heart attack_.

He looks up at the two girls, and then down at Morgana. _What the hell is going on?_

#

Juni exits the bathroom and finds Dunk at the bar, eyes stapled to the television that hangs next to the whiskey rack.

Aki lounges in one of the corner booths - the one where the computer equipment radiates - phone to his ear, and speaks in whispers.

Kaneko sets a drink on the counter, and gestures to it with a slight nod. Juni plops down alongside Dunk, and grins at the bartender. "Thanks." Dunk laughs at whatever he's watching.

"Should I set out drinks for the others?" Kaneko asks, as he runs a finger over the lacquered countertop. "Or will this be one of those evenings where everyone just pops up willy nilly?"

Juni shrugs, takes up the glass and sips. The drink is strong and forces his face to shudder, but he appreciates the burn. "Shouldn't be much longer. But hell, if it makes you feel better, pour the drinks now. If no one shows, I'll make sure they don't go to waste."

Kaneko whips a rag free from a drying rack and begins to wipe down some freshly washed glasses. "You know, I got a call from a buyer. He wanted to ask if there was any chance we could follow through with the Madarame theft."

Juni frowns. "What for? The _Sayuri_ 's are all copies, and everything else is plagiarized from teenagers or kids even younger."

Kaneko holds a glass up to the dim, warm light of the bar. "Apparently, the whole situation has hit the Art World like a box of dynamite. The volatility has had a rather interesting effect. There are those willing to pay hefty prices for the plagiarized works."

Juni whistles. "Wow. How low can you go?"

Kaneko eyes him. "Says the thief."

"The honest thief," Juni corrects. "It's not my fault the world works the way it does." Kaneko looks ready to say more, but Juni cuts him off. "Did you make those other calls?"

Kaneko doesn't bother to answer in the affirmative. He just delves right into it. "There's interest, but no firm offers yet."

Dunk cackles again. Juni finishes his drink, and with half his attention elsewhere, swivels the stool towards the beefy man and asks, "What _exactly_ are you laughing at?"

Dunk shoots him a look, and Juni sighs. _Still pouting about this meeting?_ Then he crosses his arms and jerks his chin towards the television. "Some dating show. Funny shit."

Juni runs his eyes up to the television as a bucket of green slime topples onto the bespectacled head of a high-schooler. He sniffs, and regards his empty glass. His eyes snap back to the show, where they remain until the commercial break. Shoving himself to his feet he demands that Dunk, "Turn that shit off," and - hands buried deep in his pockets - stomps his way towards the exit.

"Where're you going?" Kaneko calls after him.

"I need a cigarette," Juni mutters, but doesn't stop to see if the man has heard him.

He enters and scales the stairwell to street level, throws open the door of 'Quercus,' and steps into a night so thick it clings to his skin like wet paper.

The neon oak tree above the door vibrates in the heat with the familiar, dull hum. One hand into his vest to pull out the carton, the other out of his pocket, with his lighter.

He keeps his thoughts quiet, even from himself, lights up, and enjoys the searing and ashen taste on his tongue.

_Breathe it in. Breathe it in._

The Quercus sits slumped down a side alley in Shinjuku, far enough from the sparkle and glamor and scantily-clad girls to keep it safe from frequent foot traffic and eyes, prying or not.

There are, of course, others who spend their time down dark, ceiling-less halls of concrete and brick.

A homeless woman shuffles her way down the street, muttering what she must think are witticisms beneath her breath. She spies him and Juni feels her eyes drift to the tip of the glowing cigarette. _Here we go_.

She wobbles towards him, and Juni _looks_. Grime coats the exposed skin of her face and arms and hands. Her rags - a too large gray blouse and torn jeans - are faded from dirty water. Her black hair sticks out in a dozen places, and her eyes have the dimmed, near-crazed look of the desperate.

"Hey there, Cap'n," she drawls, her voice a rasp from too many drugs or other vices. "Mind if I borrow a ciggy?"

"No."

"Thanks." She holds out her hand.

Juni lances her with a look. "No. I meant, 'No, you can't have one.'"

"C'mon," she groans. "Just one? I'm gasping for one." She slides herself a bit closer to him. _Too smooth_ , Juni thinks. "I can make it worth your while."

"I'll pass."

"I used to be pretty," she whispers, "and in the dark I'm still-" She moves then. A hand whips towards him, and Juni catches the neon light glint off something in her hand.

His fingers wrap around her wrist, and he twists. The blade emits a dull clang on the concrete. He shoves and the woman backs away a few steps, arms pin-wheeling through the air, then settles.

She stares across the blacktop at him, rage writ across her face, but Juni just smiles, and she sighs and relaxes her posture. "What gave it away?"

"The hair." He bends over, snatches up the small knife, and holds it out to her, grip first.

"What about it?" She twists one of the clumpy strands between her fingers. "I thought I did a hell of a job."

"You did," he replies, nodding. "That's the problem. It's obvious you did that to yourself. The real homeless don't have the luxury of styling themselves up to look the part."

With a roll of her eyes, she reaches out and snatches the knife back. "What would you suggest?"

Juni shrugs. "Do what they do. Don't wash it, don't comb it. Live in squallor for a few days. It'll take care of itself."

"Sounds like fun," Mori-chan says.

"It's not supposed to be fun," Juni scolds. "It's supposed to be convincing."

Mori flips the knife back into her pocket. "Hear about Shibuya?"

"No. Why?"

"A near train crash," she says, and steps closer. "Another one of those mental shutdowns. The conductor went nuts and tried to drive the thing right off the tracks. A couple of people managed to stop him, but apparently there was a gun involved."

"A gun?" Juni asks. "Who had it?"

Mori closes the distance further. "Don't know. No one does. The police are making an absolute mess out of it, like usual. The internet's losing their collective mind." Her fist lashes out and strikes Juni across the chin. His cigarette drops from his mouth, and he throws his arm up against the door to the Quercus to steady himself.

"What the fuck, Mori?" He thunders.

"You _asshole_ ," she snarls. "Do you have any idea how much work I put into the Madarame job? How many pretentious assholes I had to smile and bat my eyes at to get a job at that gallery? How many nights I spent going over inch of that place? Making friends with that stupid, lush girlfriend of his?"

"What'd you want me to say?" Juni asks as he straightens himself. "If we had dropped the Calling Card after these Phantom Thieves, and stolen a bunch of plagiarized art, we would've lost all our clout."

"Kaneko says there are buyers for that kind of thing."

"You've bee talking with Kaneko?"

"I talk to everyone, Juni," she snaps. "They're my friend. They're your friends too, if you'd bother to remember that once in a while."

"Yeah, yeah." He makes a show of dusting himself off. "Look, I've got a new prospect lined up, and it'll more than the Madarame thing anyway. So, what's the problem?"

"The problem," Mori continues. "Is that if you've got this big job lined up, what's the point of this meeting?" She swats his arm. He doesn't bother to dodge. "And how could you do this to Dunk? You know how sensitive he is."

"He'll get over it. Besides, I didn't want any of our people looking where they shouldn't. Some mysteries are better to be solved by the expendables."

"Nice," Mori says. She slides past him and through the door.

Juni glances up at the Tokyo sky, as solid and static as a dirty rag. "Fuck," he mutters, and reenters the bar.

Once he returns to the subterranean bar, he finds Mori stepping up behind Dunk, who still watches the television. Her hand darts out and snatches the hat off his head. He makes a face and turns, but Mori stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on the top of his head. "How's your mother?"

Dunk allows her a smile, and shrugs. "Same. The doctors say so, anyway, but we've got our fingers crossed." Mori places the cat back on his head, slightly askew. He sniffs the air. "Wow, you stink."

"Asshole," she grumbles. "Apologize and buy me a drink."

Kaneko is already there. "The usual, Mori-chan?"

Before Juni can hear her answer, a hand taps him on his shoulder. He turns and finds the twins standing behind him. "When did you two get here?"

Ai, her hair a fresh-dyed blonde says, "We've always..."

To which her sister, Niko, apparently a redhead now, says, "...been here, Juni-kun."

"Could you guys not do that tonight? It's going to get real old, real quick."

Ai pouts. "Jack-"

"-Ass," Niko finishes.

"Right," he replies, and turns to make himself scarce.

Two sets of hands reach out and grab his shoulders. "Hey," Ai says. "Seriously. Why'd you set this meeting up?"

Niko wears a frown more intense than her sister's. "You know how much Dunk hates this guy," she whispers.

Juni casts a look back over his shoulder, and finds Dunk chuckling with Mori and Kaneko. "I don't need Dunk to like him. I need him to focus on the job. Outsourcing this item is our best move."

Niko releases him first, then Ai, who says, "We still don't like it."

"Deal with it," Juni says, as he swivels away from them. His voice booms through the bar. "Everyone's here. Are we ready?"

Akio, still in the booth near the computer equipment, hangs up his phone and nods. "They'll be on in about three minutes. Got the pads, Kaneko?"

The bartender switches off the television and turns to Juni. "I assume the proper arrangements have been made?"

Juni can't stop himself from sighing. "Yes, Kaneko. The 'Closed' sign is prominently displayed."

"Very good." The man reaches beneath the bar and pulls out several pads of paper and a dusty glass mug filled with a variety of pens. He sets them on the bar, and one by one, the members of Tatterdemalion take them.

Once he has his, Juni steps up next to Dunk and whispers, "You okay with this?"

The bigger man glowers. "I don't like it. I know how to multitask."

"I know you do," Juni replies. "But if something goes wrong, I'd rather you not have a target painted on your back."

"Bro," Dunk replies, and sweeps his hand  - palm up and open - around the room, taking in the other thieves. "Seriously?"

"I'll make it up to you. So just do me a favor, and grin and bear it for now, yeah?"

"It's all audio," Dunk counters. "So I'm sure as shit not grinning, but fine. Whatever."

Juni pats him on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it." He walks towards the center of the room and looks to Akio. The man nods, punches a few keys on the computer, stands up, and walks to the bar, where a drink sits waiting for him.

The computer screen is dark for a few moments, then the white outline of a new window pops up.

Silence follows. Juni narrows his eyes and waits. He doesn't want to be the first to speak, it undercuts his position in the conver-

"Heeeelllllllooooooooooooooooo?" Comes a voice, electronically garbled but distinctly annoyed. Everyone in the bar winces. It sounds shouted into the other's microphone. The screen bounces with the interpretation of the soundwave, but no image of the speaker appears.

Juni doesn't know this individual's identity, and part of him prefers it that way.

"You never cease to make an entrance," Juni says. "Well, in a manner of speaking."

"Uh-huh," comes the response, bored, and punctuated by some sort of rhythmic _rrrck, rrrck, rrrck_ noise.

Juni glances back at the group. Mori has written on her pad, _What's that noise?_

Dunk lifts his response high in the air. _They're eating a FUCKING snack_.

That was one of the many things Dunk hated about this person. They never seemed to take things seriously, and Dunk only knew how to take things seriously.

"Look," says the voice. "Let's make this quick. You're interrupting my favorite anime."

"Alright, fine," Juni says. "I've a proposition for you."

"Yeah, no shit."

Juni keeps the edge out of his voice. Dunk scribbles something on a fresh sheet of paper and holds it up. _Screw this!_ Juni waves him off. "We need you to hack into the police department's database. We're looking for information."

"Which police department?" _Rrrck, rrrck, rrrck_.

"All of them," Juni replies.

A digitized whistle echoes through the speakers. "Wow, you guys are serious."

"Can you do it?"

"Does Divine Gate suck?"

The members of Tatterdemalion glance at one another. No one says anything. Mori-chan shrugs. Even the twins look perplexed.

A sigh from the speakers. "Yes. The answer is obviously yes."

"Good. Then-"

"Question!" Shouts the voice.

"What?" Juni asks.

A hint of mischief sneaks into the voice. "Why can't Dunk do it?"

Juni spins around. The veins in the big man's neck are bulging. "He's busy. Working on something else."

"Understood. Loud and clear. He totally can't do it."

"You fucking shithead," Dunk shouts, and stands. "I'm so sick of your crap. If I ever find you, I'm going to twist your pencil neck until it snaps!"

The voice cackles. "Mua-ha-ha-ha! Hiya Dunk! Why so sensitive? Overcompenstating, much?"

Dunk ignores the voice and turns to Juni. "We don't need this. I can get in and get out, untouched and unnoticed."

"Sounds like your last date," the voice blurts.

Mori's lips break into a smirk, and she muffles a laugh.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Dunk spits.

The twins walk over and wrap arms around his barrel-sized waist. Red-faced, Dunk takes a few deep breaths and says, "We don't need this." He settles back into his seat.

"Are you done baiting my friend?" Juni asks.

"Yeah, but I'm starting to get bored again, so why don't you give me some details. What am I looking for?"

"All the information the authorities have obtained on the Phantom Thieves."

Nothing. Ten seconds of nothing.

Juni looks at the others. They stare back. Kaneko begins to write something, when the voice comes back. "Did you say, 'Phantom Thieves?'"

"I did," Juni replies. Kaneko raises his pad. _They know something already_ , it says. Juni nods, but keeps talking. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"Um," the voice replies. "Yeah. No, yeah. I can definitely get it done."

"The faster it's completed, the better the pay."

"Uh-huh, right. Okay. Something you want specifically?"

"Well," Juni continues. "Any suspects they might have. Key witnesses. Physical evidence, if any. Also, try and see if anyone's made a connection between the Phantom Thieves and these mental shutdown cases." A few of his friends shoot him funny looks, but Juni flashes them his best, 'Trust me,' face.

"Anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. We'll reach you through the usual channels. Any questions for us?"

"Nope."

"Okay then, I guess that concludes this meeting."

"Guess so," the voice says.

"As always," Juni cuts in, before the voice can sign off. "It's been a pleasure talking with you, Ali Baba."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll didn't think I FORGOT about Akira's close call in one of the first chapters, did you?


	72. Eating Crow

6/10

Students of Shujin trickle into the television studio for the second day of the school trip, and Akira and the Phantom Thieves - barring Yusuke - meet with Makoto and Haru in the building's parking lot. Though surrounded by parked cars, the space seems devoid of life, save their own, and Akira is confident they can speak in privacy.

"Dude," Ryuji says. "Maybe you should just stop riding trains."

"No shit," Akira replies.

Morgana clears his throat. "I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that it was thanks to my skills as an impeccable locksmith that we managed to survive."

Ann frowns. "Doesn't a locksmith _make_ locks? You just pick them."

Morgana frowns. "Lock picker then! The point still stands."

"It was a group effort," Akira says. "Makoto helped to pin the guy down, and Haru slowed the train until it stopped."

The cat shrugs from where he hunches on the pavement. "Well, the girls certainly did help a bit."

Haru giggles, bends down and strokes Morgana's head with a single finger.

"Sorry," Makoto says to all this. "Did he say something?"

"He said you helped last night," Haru tells her. Makoto smiles.

Ann crosses her arms. "I don't mean to change the subject," she begins. "And I'm glad you guys are okay and stuff, but are you sure what you saw last night was the same thing that happened to the guy at the hotel?"

"Positive," Akira replies, the images of the two events sobering him. Black bile puked into a sink. Spilling from eyes like faded stones. "I'll never forget that. Yukio Kan didn't die from a heart attack, like it was reported. He suffered a mental shutdown."

Makoto nods. "I concur. Which raises some distressing questions. Did any of you happen to watch the news this morning?" No one replies. She sighs. "Well, if any of you _had_ , you would've seen that the Minister of Transportation resigned."

"So?" Ryuji asks. "What's the big deal? Don't big wig old dudes like that quit all the time?"

Ann rolls her eyes and swats him on the shoulder. "Let her finish."

Ryuji makes a show of rubbing his 'injured' shoulder, but nods to Makoto. "Sorry, Prez."

"To answer your question," Makoto continues. "No, they don't. Not like this. The Minister of Transportation chose to resign _because_ of the mental shutdown cases. He's been getting the blame since they started."

"That seems," Haru begins, then pauses for a moment. "Like a rush to judgment. If no one knows what causes a mental shutdown, how can they blame someone for it?"

Akira spits out a laugh. He says, "I can see it happening," at the same time Ann does. They glance at one another and smile.

Makoto makes a very Makoto face at this, but pushes on, pretending to have ignored it. "I guess they want someone to take the fall. It'll ease public tensions if someone takes the blame for the shutdowns."

"How's that supposed to _ease_ anything?" Morgana asks, and scratches his ear.

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "Even if he resigns and accepts responsibility, no one knows the cause. They'll just keep happening."

"That's the stance of the current administration," Makoto replies. "But here's the interesting part. I did some digging. Apparently, the Minister of Transportation had some clear connections to the New Dawn movement."

Akira stiffens. "Isn't that-"

"Yes," Makoto says, triumphantly. "It's the same political movement Yukio Kan belonged to"

A chorus of _Ooohs_ echoes from the group and Akira tries to fit the pieces together. "Alright. So, if the mental shutdowns are deliberate, it seems like they're being used against the New Dawn."

"But hold on," Ann says. "Can we say that for certain?"

"Certain?" Ryuji asks her. "Didn't you just hear everything the Prez laid out?"

"Yeah, Bonehead, I did. I just-"

"Takamaki is right," Makoto says. "We can't say anything for sure right now. If we jump to conclusions, we run the risk of looking for evidence that confirms only those conclusions."

"Seems kind of a specific coincidence though," Morgana mutters.

"True," Haru says, and translates the cat-speak for Makoto. "But, maybe we should look into the New Dawn movement and see if there's anything else strange or out of place?"

Ryuji scratches his head. "Yeah, but how would we do that? We only know Yukio Kan died of one because Akira happened to be there. Now _that's_ a freakin' coincidence. We're not likely to get that lucky again." He blanches, then extends a nervous hand to pat Akira on the shoulder. "Sorry, man."

"No worries," Akira replies. "You're right. It's hard to imagine we'll be in a position where evidence like that will fall into our laps. For now, let's keep our eyes on our targets and the New Dawn in the back of our minds. You two," and here he turns to the girls. A frown stops his words. They weren't Phantom Thieves. Did they have a role in this? It felt strange to just kick them out of the loop, as they were the only other two - aside from Morgana - who witnessed the events on the train. _Then again, they've got a lot of other things to deal with._

Akira had spoken with Haru earlier, pulling her to the side when she'd arrived at the station, and asked whether she'd given any more thought to giving up her fiancé’s name. She'd cited the events of the night before as having shaken her so badly to the point where she hadn't spared the dilemma a thought. Akira can't blame her. Aside from the near derailment, work had been cancelled, but since Shibuya was in an uproar, Akira and Morgana were forced to trek home on foot. It had been a slog, and at the end, he'd awarded a few words for Sojiro, climbed to his room, and collapsed into bed.

He'd been spared any dreams. Nothing but the bliss of black.

"You two," he starts again. "Well, this isn't really your problem." He nods towards Ryuji and Ann. "We're not even sure if this is our problem yet."

Makoto and Haru glance at one another. The latter answers for them both. "I don't think either of us wants to walk away from this, Akira-kun. But, we may need some time to consider things."

Ann slips her phone from her pocket and checks the time. "We're supposed to meet up with the class soon. This'll have to wait."

Ryuji yawns and stretches his arms over his head. "Surprised they kept this trip on, seein' as how the subways are all 'effed up." He blinks a few times and smirks. "Then again, maybe we'll get to see some more of that hilarious shit they put you two through."

The color shifts in Makoto's cheeks, and - feeling his own blush - Akira lifts his gaze to study the clouds. "Let's hope not," he says.

"Definitely," Makoto replies. "Not, that is. In that I definitely hope not."

Morgana scales Akira's leg and drops back into his bag. As one, the group heads for the station's entrance.

#

Kaneshiro turns the glass around and around in his hands, his rippling reflection in the murky liquid staring back at him, brow furrowed, lips in a tight line. "I find this interesting."

"How so?" His guest asks. Polite. Inquisitive. As if she didn't already know.

He leans back in his chair, and regards the woman. "I'm sure I would've been very clear with the messenger boy."

"You're referring to Crow?"

It's a question he won't bother with. "My message would've been clear, as well. I want to speak with the Head Honcho. The Top Dog." He gives her a glimpse of his teeth. "And you are not the Top Dog."

Principal Toko brings her teacup to her mouth and sips. The steam off the liquid fogs her glasses, but if this bothers her, or makes her uncomfortable, Kaneshiro can't tell. The film on the lenses brings unsettling imagery to mind. Lizards, for some reason. "No," she replies. "I am not. But I'm all you have for today. You can rest easy knowing I will pass your wishes or considerations or messages up to the proper channels."

Kaneshiro notes the lack of the word, 'demands,' and says, "I wanted to speak with-"

"There is a way this works," Toko interrupts. She leans forward and sets her tea on the table. She settles back, folds her hands across her lap and fixes him with a gaze every inch the put-upon educator. "An order. A hierarchy. Information flows one way, and then it flows the other way. The structure of this thing of ours was deliberately established by minds much sharper than yours or mine. It was designed to insulate. Fragment. And by doing so, keep us all safe. To keep us all free from too much liability. Your request disturbs this set-up. Disrupts it. The 'Top Dog,' doesn't want to see that happen. He respects your request, but meeting him is something you simply cannot do, for what should be obvious reasons. This is not done out of spite. It is not done out of disrespect. It is done for your safety. It is done for mine. It is done for his. Do you understand?"

Kaneshiro meets that gaze and doesn't flinch, and why should he? "I understand that this is my town. I understand that he wants Shibuya. He wants it real bad. He can set up his hierarchies and play at power all he wants, but if he wants my town, he'll play nice with me. I'm sure you see me as a dog. That's fine, if you do. But you should remember that dogs bite. Especially if you piss one off. So, when I say, I want to see him, I mean, I want to see _him_. Not some rancid cunt."

Toko smiles. It's small. Not conniving or malicious. It's the kind of smile one wears while enduring polite company they would rather be rid of. "The truth is, Kaneshiro-san, I wanted to speak with you as well. This meeting works out for both of us. You get a mouthpiece, through me, and I get make my request to you directly."

"That's funny," he says. He does not laugh. " _You_ want something from _me?_ What?"

"I want you to stop pilfering my students. No more boys for your little club. No more girls for your _other_ little club."

Kaneshiro finally takes a sip of his drink. He smiles through the burn in his throat. "I had you figured wrong. Never thought you'd be the demanding type when you walked in here."

"This isn't a demand," Toko continues, voice even and controlled. "It's a request. One you would do well to heed. Troublemakers are a thing at my school. A small handful of students joining up with a gang is unfortunate, but not necessarily unheard of. Some young ladies falling in with a bad crowd? Getting in over their heads? Heart-wrenching, but what can you expect in a city like Tokyo? But your volume is increasing, Kaneshiro-san, and it's drawing unwanted attention."

"Attention from where?"

"For one, other students."

Kaneshiro gestures with his drink. "And?"

"These same students might pass along their suspicions or worries to their parents. They parents might pass those along to me, or even the police."

"We've got people in the police. And we've got you. I fail to see how this is a problem."

"A problem isn't a problem until it becomes a problem. I'd rather not present the opportunity for your needs to become our - collective - issue."

"So squash it. Sounds like something you need to address."

"I'll do my best," Toko continues. "But I'd like your cooperation."

"I need those young troublemakers of yours. And those girls fetch good prices. So-"

"When it comes to this thing of ours," Toko cuts in. "Your level of importance is directly linked to how much benefit you can bring to those at the top. I am very good at what I do. So, if you value your existing relationship with the 'Top Dog,' and you want a chance at a more beneficial one, my wishes should be of primary importance to you."

Kaneshiro keeps the scowl off his face. The old bitch may be lying. Then again, maybe she wasn't. If she really was important enough to be sent in Shido's stead, maybe if would do well to stay on her good side. For now.

Entertaining the mental image of Principal Toko bleeding from the eyes and mouth, Kaneshiro nods, smiles and says, "I'll see what I can do."

Toko bows her head in acquiescence. "Thank you. Now then, why don't you tell me what _you_ want?"

#

Akira scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. There isn't much to see, or if there is, he can't tell. Aside from sites that focus on the economic repercussions of administrative decisions, using numerous phrases and lingo Akira can't understand, there's little on the web to do with the Transportation Minister's resignation. "Find anything?" Morgana whispers from the bag.

"Nope," Akira replies. He sits once more in an orderly row of students. This time, the studio has them for the taping of a talk show, and thankfully, it doesn't seem like he'll have to respond or interact or do anything. _For once_. Ryuji slouches to his right. Ann flips through her own phone to his left. He glances around to find Kawakami, but he hasn't seen the teacher since he stepped into the studio some time ago.

Haru and Makoto are with their class, somewhere on the other side of the room.

Akira starts to wonder if he can get away with a quick nap.

"...a warm hand to our guest, the Great Detective Prince, Goro Akechi!" Applause detonates among the students and the hosts stand and slap their hands together as well. Akira's heart does somersaults and Ryuji turns to him and whispers, "Dude!"

Ann leans forward and whispers, "Just be cool. This is no big deal. They'll probably just ask him about the kind of girl he likes, or something. That's all this show ever does, anyway."

From the side of the stage, steps Goro Akechi. His smile is wide, and he gives everyone a big, black-gloved wave.

Ryuji crosses his arms and mutters a curse beneath his breath that Akira can't make out. Then he says, "Just look at that asshole. He's supposed to be out catching criminals, but here he is, giving interviews. Some justice."

Akira watches the boy's face. It looks friendly enough, but he has a hard time believing Akechi would prance onto the stage pouting. _He's involved with the hunt for the Phantom Thieves_. The thought makes him nervous, but he reassures himself that Ann is right.

"Thank you for having me," Akechi says, as he sits down between the hosts. His voice is clear and crisp. _Well-rehearsed_ , Akira thinks.

"We're so excited for you to be here, Akechi-kun," the male announcer states. "It's been a while since you've been on a show like this, yes?"

He grins, and his cheeks betray a faint blush. "I suppose so, but I can't say it's something I'll ever get used to."

A few people in the crowd chuckle. Mostly girls.

"So," the female announcer, someone Akira recognizes but can't recall the name of, starts. "We're all dying to know, do you have a girlfriend?"

An excited murmur rises from the crowd. Mostly girls. "Told you," Ann whispers.

Akechi, for his part, looks suitably embarrassed. "Um, is that really all you wanted to ask me?"

"Hmmm," she continues. "You seem to be evading the question."

The boy raises a hand and lets it drift through his hair. Akira hears a distinctly feminine sigh from somewhere ahead. "Well, if you must know, I do not."

"Oooh," she coos. "Did you hear that, ladies?"

More laughs.

"I'd like to point out," Akechi continues, his words coming out just a bit quicker. "That I don't believe someone in my position would be suitable boyfriend material. I don't get a lot of time to myself. I'm usually quite busy, and therefore would not be able to dedicate the proper amount of time to the girl who would deign to go out with me."

Again, that distinct feminine sigh from somewhere ahead of Akira.

"Smooth talkin' bastard," Ryuji retorts, and slumps down in his seat, arms crossed. He nudges Akira with his elbow. "Can you believe this guy? And the ladies are lapping it up."

Ann leans forward and whispers across Akira, "What's not to like? He's good looking, has a job, and doesn't seem full of himself."

Ryuji glances around, then leans in himself and mumbles, "He's against the Phantom Thieves."

"Guys," Akira says, and sets a hand on each of their shoulders, guiding them gently back to their upright positions. "Let's chill, okay? He hasn't even said anything about them yet."

"Oh, Akechi-kun, you know we love to give you a hard time," the male announcer says, with a chuckle. He spreads his hands in a wide, sweeping gesture, which spurs applause from the audience. Then he beams, as if just remembering something. "I don't know if they told you backstage, but we've got some special guests in the studio today. May I present, the entire second and third year classes of Shujin Academy?"

Akechi runs his gaze over the audience. "Shujin Academy? Interesting."

"Say," the woman says. "Isn't Shujin Academy where those Phantom Thieves first struck?"

Akira sighs. _And here we go_.

"Indeed it is," Akechi replies. "Their first target was Suguru Kamoshida."

A blanket of tension settles over the entire crowd. No one claps. No one laughs. Akira bears witness to the awkward glances shared among his fellow students.

The hosts must detect it to, because the male cuts in with, "And of course, they gave us another display of their abilities when they changed the heart of Ichiryusai Madarame."

Akira wants to groan, but manages to stifle it. Ryuji, on the other hand, lets out a small hiss of breath that makes the student in front of him, twitch in his seat.

Akechi's nod is slow and patient. "Yes, that was rather interesting."

"Have you investigated them in your work?"

Akechi clasps his hands together. "I'm afraid I can't discuss my work in public. I will say that I have an interest in them. One that extends outside the realm of my professional capacities."

"Much has been made," the female announcer says. "Of the lack of a connection between Kamoshida and Madarame. How do you-"

"Excuse me," Akechi cuts, his words soft but firm. "That is not quite accurate."

Akira sits up straighter. Ryuji and Ann do the same. He can feel Morgana shift around in the bag, likely trying to hear.

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"While they may not have any direct connection, there is something Kamoshida and Madarame had in common. Namely, the targets of their abuse." He pauses, then states, "Students. Madarame plagiarized and mistreated his pupils. Kamoshida abused his power as a teacher at Shujin." He nods towards the audience.

Again, silence.

"Of course," Akechi continues. "Two instances cannot truly indicate anything, but it is an interesting point. Taken a step further, it suggests some things about the Phantom Thieves."

The two hosts share a look across their guest at one another. "Like what, Akechi-kun?" The man asks.

"It suggests that the Phantom Thieves could, themselves, be students. Students who possess a strong, if distorted sense of justice."

Ryuji's foot begins to _taptaptap_ against the floor, and Akira rests a hand on his shoulder. The boy doesn't stop.

"Would you mind elaborating on that?" The woman asks. "The part about a, 'distorted sense of justice?'"

Akechi sighs. "I would mind, actually. I believe I've made my position perfectly clear. The Phantom Thieves may dub themselves heroes all they wish, but their methods are downright villainous." A hint of red appears in his cheeks. "I know that may seem harsh. Especially given my audience. However, I will not walk my words back because they are difficult to hear. The Phantom Thieves do not subscribe to the laws and order of our country. Laws that were set up to protect, as well as be obeyed. If the laws fail, we must go back and rectify them so they do not fail again. No system is perfect, but the sign of a strong society is how it seeks to improve upon itself in a progressive manner. I feel that too many people in today's world either feel stagnant, or are willing to shuck the boundaries of society in order to further their own ends. Make no mistake, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts may be helping people, but they are ultimately serving themselves."

"O-oh," the host replies. She looks from Akechi, to the audience, back to Akechi, and settles again on the audience. "Are there any questions?"

No one raises a hand.

"Well then," and she clears her throat. "Why don't we change the subject then, yes? Akechi-kun, why don't you tell us a little more about yourself? What's your favorite food?"

#

"I'm really glad," Morgana says, once they've left the set. "That things didn't get out of hand in there."

The Thieves have found their way to an empty hall, their day at the studio done.

"Yeah," Ann replies. "But it still sucks that he badmouthed us like that."

Ryuji nods. "Dude should've read the room. We're _from_ Shujin, for crying out loud." He glances back down the hall. "Wonder how Mishima feels about all this?"

"Probably not great," Morgana says.

As if the mention of his name summoned him, Mishima turns the hall, spots them, and marches their way, a storm on his face. "Can you _believe_ that guy?"

"Hey, Mishima," Akira mutters.

"I can't believe he had the nerve to say all that. To call you guys villains!"

"Keep it down," Akira hisses. "It is what it is."

"But-"

Akira turns his back to them. "I'll meet you guys outside. I've got to use the bathroom."

"So?" Morgana asks, once they're far enough away from the group. "What'd you think of Akechi?"

"I didn't think much of anything," he replies. "It's like he said. He's made his position clear, in the past."

"I guess so." Akira finds a Men's Room and steps inside. "Hey, uh, you're not going number two, are you?"

"I would've left you behind if I were," Akira says, as he steps up to the urinal.

Once he's done, he washes his hands, sticks them under the dryer, and returns to the hall.

He nearly collides with Goro Akechi.

"Oh!" The boy says.

"Crap," Akira mutters, and takes a half-step back into the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," Akechi says, and straightens. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Yeah," Akira replies. "Me neither."

Akechi runs his eyes over Akira's clothes. "You must be one of the students from Shujin. I take it you were in the audience during that last bit?"

Akira nods and Akechi sighs.

"I'm afraid my spiel about the Phantom Thieves sapped some of the energy from the room. I should've known better than to discuss a topic that is surely sore for your school."

Akira shrugs. "You're entitled to your opinion."

The boy smiles and glances away. "Well, thank you. I suppose you're right." A look crosses his face, and he meets Akira's eyes once more. "Tell me, what are your thoughts regarding the Phantom Thieves?"

Akira feels his pulse skyrocket, but he keeps his face calm. "Honestly?" He asks. _Okay, this guy is the Detective Prince. And apparently he works with Sae Niijima. If he wants to find out who you are, he can do it. So don't lie. You don't have to tell the truth, but you can't lie._ "My friend got a lot of unwanted attention from Kamoshida. And last year, he broke my other friend's leg." He shrugs. "I don't know how they 'changed his heart,' and got him to confess, but they did. So the Phantom Thieves are okay in my book."

Akechi makes a small, _Hmmm_ , noise and nods. "I can understand your appreciation of them, given your perspective. But I still can't excuse vigilantism."

Akira frowns at this. "Well, let me ask you a question. You said that the sign of a strong society is its ability to look at itself and change itself when it sees a problem, right?"

"Correct."

_What am I doing?_ "But you lost the room in there, because you were talking to a bunch of students who got the shit-end of the stick. And society, instead of seeking to improve itself, just moved on. It didn't do anything for them."

"You're referring to Kamoshida, yes?"

"Of course I am," Akira says, his blood pumping now. "We all know how faculty members and parents and those who should've represented the students knew about his crimes, but they didn't do anything. Were the students, like my friends, supposed to just suffer in silence until society decided to pay attention?"

Akechi frowns. "Right there, you mentioned faculty members and parents, but you never mentioned the police. Couldn't some of his victims have reached out to the authorities?"

"Some did," Akira counters.

"And yet," Akechi continues. "From my review of the Kamoshida case files, I failed to see one documented instance of any students going to the police."

Akira crosses his arms. "Now it sounds like you're victim blaming."

"Certainly not," Akechi replies. "But we are responsible for our own lives, are we not? Someone in society cares, and that someone, whether a police officer or a politician, would no doubt have championed the cause of the Shujin. Sometimes, it is not enough to hope society pays attention. Sometimes we must make society pay attention."

"But isn't that what the Phantom Thieves are doing?" Akira asks, a grin sneaking onto his face, even as his mind screams at him to _shut up_.

"No, it isn't. The Phantom Thieves haven't sought to reform society. They've only succeeded in parading themselves in front of the country as vigilantes. What solution have they presented, other than 'Trust in the Phantom Thieves and hope your problems go away?' Is that to be the foundation for our improved society? That people we don't know can mentally recalibrate individuals they deem criminals?"

"Kamoshida was-"

"Yes, he was a criminal," Akechi cuts in. "As was Madarame. But what happens if they decide to go for someone who isn't?" He smiles, and although it's warm, Akira can sense a bite beneath it. "Let's pretend you're a Phantom Thief." Akira feels his blood go cold. "And let's say I'm investigating you. You learn that I'm very close to uncovering your identity. Would that be enough for you to target me? To try and steal my heart? Perhaps, make me confess to crimes I never committed?"

"No, and-"

"But how can you be sure? Do you know the Phantom Thieves? Have you ever spoken with them? Have they given you their assurances?"

Akira halts before answering. "No."

"Then you can't possibly know what they are thinking and how they will determine whom to target. None of us do. And that's the problem."

The two boys stare at one another for a long time. Then, Akechi blinks and says, "Oh, I'm sorry. I may have gone a bit overboard there." He smiles and shakes his head. "I nearly forgot that I had to actually use the bathroom."

"Right," Akira says, and slides out of his way. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Akechi says, as he steps inside. Akira begins to walk away. "Hey," Akechi calls after him.

"Yeah?" Akira asks, turning slightly back.

"I didn't get your name."

"Akira Kurusu," he replies, and makes to leave once more.

"It was nice to meet you, Akira-kun."

Akira nods, and continues on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, happy Monday! I went to post this morning, and noticed some glaring errors. I didn't have the time to fix them, so I had to rush home after work and fix it up before I head off to my Fantasy Draft.
> 
> My brother-in-law is our league commissioner and he 'randomized' the order of the Draft. He 'randomly' got first pick, and I 'randomly' got last. As Patrick Henry once said, "I smell a rat!"
> 
> Anyway, if I haven't gotten to your comment yet, I'll do my best to do so. As always, thanks for reading!


	73. The Power of Words

Toranosuke Yoshida stands poised on the small rectangle of a box just outside one of Shibuya Station's many entrances. His charcoal suit, which - while well-pressed - manages to still seem rumbled, is adorned with a bright green sash littered with red kanji. His dark hair is immaculately combed, but even from where he stands, Akira can see it starting to thin.

His face is bulbous and not very handsome. His figure is stocky, if not paunchy, and he slumps forward, just a bit. He is not, Akira thinks, someone who should be giving political speeches.

"What's the story with this guy, again?" Morgana asks. The cat had napped through Akira's late afternoon meeting with Ohya.

"He was some up and coming politician about twenty years ago, but he took some bribes. It went public, and that was that."

"Right, but why does Ohya care about him?"

"Apparently he's making something of a comeback. Not a big one. He just shows up and gives a few speeches and that's it. But, according to Ohya, politicians don't 'un-crook' themselves, and she's hoping to get in on the ground floor of a political scandal. He's got some third degree ties to other political groups too."

"What's that last part mean?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. Ohya mentioned it."

"Oh. So she's hoping this guy is involved with criminals or something?"

"I think she's hoping people don't change."

After he left the studio, Akira spent his time trying to piece together what he would say to Ohya once he reached her. The woman had sent him a text with instructions to meet at a cafe just off Central Street, but when he arrived, she’d bombarded him with instructions and sent him on his way.

He'd barely had time to say hello, and even less to say goodbye.

The rift between them hadn't healed with a night's rest. _I wonder what would happen if I told her I was involved in the mental shutdown on the train last night.._ She'd probably be eager for the scoop then.

Morgana settles on his shoulder. "This guy looks kind of washed up to me."

"No doubt. But this is what Ohya wants, so here we are."

"I don't know much about politics," Morgana replies. "I hope this isn't boring."

"Yeah," Akira says, as he shifts his weight near the back of the crowd. "Me too."

The man begins to speak.

"Friends," he calls. "We stand at a precipice. Not the one the naysayers and cynics cite, but a far greater, more hopeful one, but one also rife with the potential pitfalls of failure." A few pedestrians stop, turn, and stare. Akira stiffens. He hadn't expected the man's voice to resound so much.

"I speak, of course, of the future, and the multitudes of possibilities it promises. Yet, even as each of us yearns for and envisions a brighter tomorrow, we have turned our backs on the very ones who will lead us to it." He raises a white-gloved hand into the air, and gestures with the other. "The youth! The next generation! Japan's children. Its teenagers. Its young adults. The neophyte men and women we must place our hopes in. And yet, we have abandoned them."

A few people, some older men, shift away from the crowd and stomp off, heads shaking. Akira watches them go for the brief pause between Toranosuke's words. _That was fast_.

“The next generation will lead us into the future, and yet they have no plan for how to arrive there. They are told this is their own fault. That they do not want to work, or learn. We do not encourage, but demand of them. Our strongest desire? For them to make the same mistakes we have. Look at our society today! Our economy is sinking by the hour. Our birthrates are declining, which puts even more pressure upon those few youths willing to take up the call we've forced on them.

"It is the next generation that will fix these crises. But rather than looking ahead, and doing what we can now to ready them for their great challenges, we turn our backs.

"They extend their hands to us, crying out for guidance and moral leadership. What do we give them in return? Standardized tests and prescription medication. Then we have the gall to say they are not reaching their potential.

"I wish to change this! I want to empower our young people to fight for their dreams, and for the dreams of a revitalized Japan!"

He continues for a time, and Akira finds himself in a black ocean of his words. Like many his age, he has paid little attention to the world of politics. When he has turned his eyes and ears towards that alien world, he finds it comprised of doddering old men complaining about the uncompromising greatness of 'back in the day,' and how its decline is somehow his fault, or the opposition party's fault, or the fault of foreigners, or - really - anyone's fault but theirs'. It's not that Akira finds it nauseating. He just finds it boring.

But this.

Akira listens, drinks it in, and lets it wash over him like so much water.

Yoshida begins to discuss his education reform ideas, and a voice calls out, "Do you honestly think anyone's listening to you, _No Good Tora?_ "

The words, with the harsh bite behind them, snaps Akira out of his trance. He blinks and watches a similar thing happen to a few more people in the crowd.

Toranosuke himself looks as if he's been jumped by a shadow. "H-huh?" He bumbles out, and the strong impression vanishes into the neon lights of Shibuya Station. He becomes - once more - an aging, ruffled man, with diminishing hair and a blocky, unattractive face. "I'm just-" he begins.

The man in the audience, and Akira can see it's someone not much older than himself, shouts back. "No one's buying it. Why don't you crawl back under your rock before you embarrass yourself some more?"

A few people chuckle.

"What an asshole," Morgana whispers, and Akira wants to agree, but can't help listening to the exchange.

"Get out of here, No Good Tora," the man shouts. "Let a real politician, one that isn't corrupt, talk."

Toranosuke's eyes fall, but he steps down from his box. The speech is, evidently, done.

People begin to move away, and before long, all signs of the short-lived rally are gone.

"Too bad," Morgana says. "I was getting into that speech."

"Yeah," Akira replies. "The same with me. Let's go talk to him."

"What're you going to say?"

Akira shrugs. "I'm not really sure yet."

Akira has always figured politicians would be sequestered away from the common people behind walls of body guards and sycophants, but he finds No Good Tora alone, busying himself, just around the corner from where he'd given his speech. The man has the box he'd stood on at his feet, and Akira can see it is actually a case. He pulls off his sash and slides it lovingly into the box. He stares at it for all of a few seconds before, with a sigh, he snaps the lid shut.

"Excuse me," Akira says, and the man straightens and spins about on one leg, as if caught in the midst of a criminal act.

"Oh my!" He cries. When he spies Akira, he lets out a long sigh. "My word, you startled me."

Akira finds himself a bit startled as well. "Uh, sorry."

"Quite alright, quite alright," he replies. "May I help you with something?"

"I just saw your speech," Akira says, and jerks his thumb back over his shoulder.

"I see," Tora nods and folds his hands together before him.

"I really liked it," Akira tells him.

The man's eyes sparkle. "Is that so?" He beams at him, and Akira finds it hard to believe that this is the same man who was heckled away a few moments earlier. "I'm glad to hear that. It's certainly refreshing when young people take an interest in politics. After all," and he holds up a hand, index finger extended to the sky. "They are the youngest and therefore the future affects them the most."

"Yeah," Akira says, rubbing the back of his head. "I kind of got the gist of that while you were talking up there."

Tora chuckles. "I've been told I sometimes don't know when to change topics, but you try and find me someone who can easily cease when they're discussing something they truly care about."

"I wish I got to hear the rest of it," Akira says.

The man's smile grows. "Well, if you're that interested, you should stop by again. I'm here fairly regularly."

Akira feels his brows rise. "You're going to go up there and do all that again?" He asks. "Even after what just happened?"

Tora blinks in surprise. "Of course. I wouldn't be much of a politicians if I ran away every time someone shouted something crass at me."

"What did he mean?" Akira asks. "When he said, 'No Good Tora?'"

Tora suddenly looks very, very old. "Ah, that refers to something that happened a long time ago, and I'm afraid I haven't the time to go into it. But I'm sure you can find more information about it online. So many things are online these days." He grins again. "I do sincerely hope you stop by during my next speech. I've been working on it for a while, and I believe it'll be better than this one."

"Thanks," Akira answers. "I think I will."

Tora bows and turns his back, then stops. "Good Heavens, how rude of me. I forgot to ask your name."

"Akira Kurusu," he says, and bows.

Tora bows once more. "Toranosuke Yoshida. A pleasure." Then, the man turns, hefts up his case, and walks away.

#

"Hmmm," Ohya says, and sips her coffee. "It's good that you didn't overdo it." She nods, and seems surer of whatever she's thinking with each one. "You let him know you were interested, but you didn't overplay your hand."

"You make it sound," Akira says, as he plays with the straw in his drink. "Like I'm trying to date him."

He'd hoped the joke would ease the tension, but Ohya continues on, as if she hadn’t heard. "After the next speech, see if you can get closer to him. Offer to work for him if you have to. I'd like to get you into his inner circle, if he has one."

"I don't think he has one."

"Perfect, then you'll be his inner circle."

When Akira had returned to the cafe from the speech, he had mentioned that No Good Tora hadn't seemed very corrupt, but Ohya had chastised him. "Of course he doesn't _seem_ corrupt. The people who are corrupt never seem corrupt. Just look at Madarame. Look at Kamoshida. On a surface level, those two didn't seem so bad. When you peel the layers back, that's when you see the ugliness."

He has to admit, she has a point. The man had already taken bribes once before. Who's to say he wouldn't again? Maybe all his 'blah blah blah, the youth, blah blah blah,' was just his latest cover or act? It didn't feel good to think about it like that, but Akira didn't see another option. "So, I guess things are on hold until his next speech?" He asks.

"Guess so," Ohya replies.

In silence, the everyday noise of the cafe seems to grow.

"Listen," he says. "I'm sorry about freaking out last night. And about the things I said."

Ohya doesn't say anything for a time. Then, "Don't apologize if you're just going to do it again."

He frowns. "I don't plan on it."

"What do you want me to say, then?" Ohya asks, and shrugs. "Yeah Akira, everything is fine, we're best pals again or whatever?"

"Look, I value our partnership and-"

"Then why did you up and vanish on me?"

He resists the urge to throw his hands into the air. "I'm a student. I can't be at your beck and call all the time."

Ohya nods. "Sure. Except when we were investigating Madarame. Then, I couldn't keep you away."

"That was..." He starts, but lets the words fizzle. He'd been about to say 'different,' but how could he explain that?

To her credit, Ohya understands exactly what he'd meant. "That was different because you were doing it for you. We just happened to have the same goal. But this No Good Tora thing? This is something I asked you to do. So now you're not as invested because you don't want to be doing it, and here we are."

Akira chokes off a sigh. A part of him just wants to nod and agree with her, to mend things and move on. _But isn't that the point?_ "What'd you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to _say_ anything, Akira," she replies, leaning back in her chair. "But I've got some advice for you, if you can be bothered with it."

"Fine."

"Find some way to get something out of this." She shrugs. "Make it worth your while." With that, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a small file. "Speaking of, I've got something for you."

Akira sneaks his phone from his jeans and checks the time. He's still got a bit before he needs to meet Kawakami.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ohya replies, and goes to slide the file back into her bag. "I guess you don't want this information on your dead Principal."

Akira goes to shove his phone away, but his hand slips and the device _clacks_ to the floor. "Sorry, sorry," he says, as he bends down to pick it up. "What'd you find?"

He opens it and finds a number of Xeroxed pages of smudgy black ink. Akira needs to squint to read them. "On the surface,” Ohya says. “Kobayakawa looks pretty clean. However, some of the paperwork that surfaced for his estate seems pretty shady."

Akira realizes the documents are bank statements, and he feels his eyes glaze over. "How did you get these?"

"I got a guy."

"You've got a guy for dead peoples' bank statements?"

"I've got guy for everything. Can I continue, or do you want to ask more questions you won't like the answer to?"

"Right, go ahead." Ohya opens her mouth but Akira inserts, "Just so you know, I don't really know how to read this stuff."

"Uh-huh," she replies. "I figured. Don't worry, I'll point out the important parts. _Anyway_. If you do a thorough combing, everything looks pretty straightforward. He gets his paycheck, he pays his bills, all that fun, boring nine-to-five stuff. Except for one thing. During the last few months, your Principal saw an increase of refunds on his account."

"Refunds?"

Ohya nods. "It's when a company returns money to you because you-"

"I know what a refund is, Ohya."

She raises her hands defensively. "Hey, how am I supposed to know that? You just said you couldn't read bank statements."

Akira shakes his head. "What's so weird about refunds?"

"Nothing, on their own. Except, there seemed to be an awful lot of them. He'd get charged something, then get refunded a day or two later. This happened about twelve times in the last five months." She smirks. "Smells fishy to me."

"How?" Akira puzzles this over. "Couldn't it just mean he got his identity stolen and these are all fraudulent charges?"

"That's what you would think. But the places that were charging and refunding stood out. Shell corporations mostly, with nothing names like Orchid Holding Inc., or Downtown Corp." Ohya reaches out and flips through a few pages. "Now, get a load of this name." She flicks the page with her index finger. "Right here."

Akira reads it, and his eyes widen. "Natsuki Storage?" He looks up at her. "Seriously?"

She nods. "Two months ago, a bunch of money got debited from his account by Natsuki Storage. Two days later, the money was back in his account."

"Did Kobayakawa have a storage unit there?" Akira asks. Morgana hadn't said anything. Then again, Madarame's unit had been in Chisako Kitagawa's name.

"Probably not," Ohya continues. "But it's what got me thinking. We know Natsuki Storage is run by Yakuza. This is a _scam_. They debit money out, then credit it back. But the money goes to another account first. These guys withdraw the money before it gets sent back to the original account."

"Why?"

"To give to Kobayakawa, of course. Now he's got the money that was credited back into his account, and the cash they give him from their own account. These aren't fraudulent charges, Akira. They're concealed _bribes_."

"For what?"

Ohya shrugs. "I'm not sure. But if this is true, then your Principal was into some shady shit. Shit much shadier than the Phantom Thieves."

#

"Alright," Kawakami says. "Admittedly, math isn't my best subject, but it wasn't too long ago that I was in your shoes. So, let's try and-"

Akira cannot help himself. "Sounds like a cautionary tale."

Kawakami's head swivels around until her eyes shovel into Akira's own. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Akira replies. "Nothing. Sorry. You were saying?"

She turns back to the textbook between them, and Akira awards himself a few moments to appreciate the absurdity of it all.

'Becky' had been more than available for the 'services' tonight, and had arrived as promised, adorned in her maid outfit, promising to fill Akira's heart with 'love and compassion.'

Once upstairs, she'd promptly dropped onto his couch and asked if he had anything to drink. Aside from coffee, Akira replied, he did not.

Perhaps because neither wanted the session to last longer than it had to, the two began to study, but Akira found his mind drifting off, and not just due to his teacher's outfit.

Ohya's deal.

Kobayakawa's bribes.

New Dawn.

Mental Shutdowns.

Whatever fallout there would be from revealing themselves to Makoto and Haru.

Not to mention, Haru's fiancé.

And whatever conspiracy was out there, if one existed.

The more he thinks about Kobayakawa's connection to Natsuki Storage, the more unsettled he becomes. All the connections feel as if they're floating just behind his eyes, but he can't reach out and string them all together.

"Hey," he finds himself saying. "How well did you know Principal Kobayakawa?"

She looks up from the book, and frowns. "Geez. Way to bring the mood down."

"The mood was up?"

She rolls her eyes. "Why'd you bring him up?"

"Just curious. I didn't know him very well, so I thought I'd ask."

Kawakami yawns, and covers her mouth with a hand. She blinks a few times then shrugs. "He kept to himself, mostly. I mean, he was at school before anyone else, and he left later than everyone one else too, but I don't know if he actually had a relationship with anyone at school. He couldn't shut up about Kamoshida, but that was because of the prestige that jerk brought Shujin."

"So, you guys weren't friendly?"

Kawakami barks out a laugh. "Hardly. I didn't like him from the start. Sure, he worked hard, but it always seemed like he was working hard for the wrong reasons."

"Wrong reasons?" Akira asks.

Another yawn from his teacher, and she leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. The sexiness of the outfit is beginning to wear off on him. "Take you, for example. He wasn't giving you a second chance at Shujin to help you out. He did it so people would praise the school for giving someone like you another chance at an education."

Akira feels his blood rise at the phrase, 'someone like you,' but he keeps it to himself. "Yeah, I kind of figured that was the case." He vaguely recalls ranting about it at Makoto, that day in the hall.

"I don't want to speak badly about someone who's dead," Kawakami continues. "But Principal Kobayakawa always seemed like he put his ambitions first and the school second." She takes a deep breath, leans forward and taps the textbook. "Now, let's get back to this, yeah?"

Akira tries to pry a few more questions from her, but Kawakami gives him little.

At the end of the session, Kawakami slumps down in her seat and stares around his room, as if seeing it for the first time. "You know, I didn't really picture you in a place like this." She nods towards Morgana, who lays on the bed, watching them. "Or having a cat." She straightens. "That reminds me, have you been hearing a cat in the classroom for the past few weeks?"

"Uh, no," Akira replies. "Maybe you're just hearing things. You probably don't get a lot of sleep with your job."

She snorts. "Yeah, you're telling me."

"Mind if I ask," Akira starts, before he realizes it, "why you're doing this job?"

Kawakami flattens him with a look. "Because I love to bring joy into peoples' lives, that's why."

Akira has learned many things in his past two months, and one of them is when to shut up. He does it now.

Kawakami opens her mouth as if to say more, then decides against it. She pushes herself to her feet and says, "I think that's enough for tonight. You've got school tomorrow, after all."

"So do you."

"Don't remind me," she groans. She makes her way to the stairwell and stares down into the dim light. "You're sure Sakura-san isn't going to be lurking downstairs?"

Akira shakes his head. "He's hardly ever here when the shop is closed. He always seems like he's in a rush to get home once work's done."

"And he just leaves you here, huh?"

Akira shrugs by way of response.

"Right," she says, and starts to descend. "See you in homeroom, Kurusu."

#

Sugimura finishes his story, throws back the rest of his drink, sets the cup on the table, and waits for the man who sits across from him to say something.

Junya Kaneshiro grins, one arm thrown over the back of the couch. "Man, kid. I don't see what you're complaining about." He half-turns his head towards the two men who stand on either side of this little office's door. "Nanashi, what's that phrase you picked up when you were over in the States? The one about scars and women?"

"Chicks dig scars," Nanashi replies, in accented English.

Kaneshiro nods. "There you go. Chicks dig scars." He regards Sugimura and shrugs. "Then again, whoever came up with that probably meant war wounds. Not the kind of scars you get from having your ass handed to you by a cat."

Sugimura scowls, but doesn't direct it at the gangster. Behind Kaneshiro, the one named Nanashi snickers. The other nameless lump of meat doesn't even blink.

He reaches up and runs his hand over the scabbed cuts along his cheeks and neck. They aren't too deep, or so he is told, and they're unlikely to leave any kind of permanent marks.

Still.

If he ever finds that cat again, he'll feed it to his racing dogs.

He pushes the mental image of the hissing, swiping feline out of his mind. "That's not the point," he grumbles. "You know everything that goes on in Shibuya and the surrounding districts. I want to know where my fiancée is."

Kaneshiro's grin fades into a bored expression. "Have you tried calling her?"

"Yes, I've tried calling her you-"

"Careful," Kaneshiro cuts in.

Sugimura snaps his mouth shut and bows his head. He feels no contrition, but he knows better than to antagonize this man.

"Do you know where she is?"

"I might," Kaneshiro replies. "None of my people have been looking for her, but someone might've seen her." He frowns. "Does her family know she's gone?"

"Her father doesn't care," he spits out. "He's been busy with a large acquisition. I doubt he even realizes she's gone. But if I can't find her, and it becomes an issue, it could cause a scandal for my family."

"And we wouldn't want that. You said you've looked all over Shibuya?"

"Yes. That's where I saw her last."

"She got any friends?"

"Only one girl that I know of. She assaulted me outside Shujin Academy, and her older sister met with my father to bail her out."

"'Bail her out?'" Kaneshiro asks. "Who is this chick?"

"A Public Prosecutor who works for the SIU. Her name's Sae Niijima."

Nothing changes on the man's face, but Sugimura feels something like frost slide into the air. "Niijima," the gangster mutters. He turns back towards his two henchmen. They're both staring back at him, even the one who doesn't move, eyes wide in something approaching wonder. "Haven't heard that name in a while."

"You know her?" Sugimura asks.

"No," Kaneshiro replies, and stares down into his lap. "I don't. Have you thought about staking out this Niijima's place? To see if your runaway bride is hiding there?"

Sugimura frowns. "I suppose I could look."

Kaneshiro beams, whatever introspective moment he was having, gone. "There you go. You see? You didn't even need my help." He snaps his fingers. "But hell, why don't I help you out anyway?" He tilts his head back and calls out, "Manashi."

The second henchman, now named, steps out into the hall. A few moments later, he returns with his meaty hand firmly wrapped around the arms of a strung out girl.

Kaneshiro frowns at her state, then shrugs. "She's better looking when the lights are out. Why don't you take her for a spin anyway, eh? See if you can't work off some of your frustrations." He pats the air, apologetically. "Nothing permanent though, got it? This one owes me a lot of money."

Sugimura rises to his feet and makes his way over to her.

"My name is-" The girl starts, but Sugimura shakes his head.

"Not tonight." He takes her from the big man and drags her out into the hall. His car is parked in the basement's garage. "Tonight, your name is Haru."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Hope you all enjoy this chapter.
> 
> And, if you're in the US, I hope you all enjoy Labor Day!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	74. Collecting Evidence

6/11

 

Ann keeps her eyes shut.

She can almost feel the fist cut the air, and the dull smack of contact forces her to wince. The victim's pleas become more jagged. Wetter.

"I-I'll pay, Sakoda-san."

A pause, and into that silence rushes panicked breath.

"I know," Yoshimori Sakoda replies.

Ann senses the blow, and then there's the sound.

"Ann," Morgana whispers.

She inches her eyes open. There's the concrete, still dark from the early afternoon's rain. A warm wind races down the alley, and shoots a stench up her nose. Morgana has one paw balanced against her leg.

"We can go," he says. He doesn't need to say more. What more is there to confirm? Yoshimori Sakoda, Daisuke Takanashi's request, is what he is.

Ann nods, but her feet don't move. She forces herself to peer around the alley's corner, careful to keep only a sliver of herself exposed.

Sakoda's back greets her, the white shirt of the Shujin uniform stained with a 'V' of sweat. At his feet is another boy. A second year, but like Maehara, Ann doesn't recognize him either.

_Ryuji would,_ she thinks. _Ryuji would know who that is_.

Ryuji would also do something. Ryuji would sprint down the alley, stealth be damned. He would put himself between Yoshimora Sakoda and his victim. If he had to, he would match Sakoda's fists with his own.

Ann wonders then, if that is why Akira asked her to do this.

She knows that doing something, doing anything, would make things much more difficult. The Phantom Thieves needed to ensure none of their targets had any idea they were targets, until the last moment.

But they needed confirmation. Daisuke's word wasn't enough.

They had their proof.

"Okay," the boy on the ground shouts. " _Okay!_ I get it! I fucked up! Please, just stop!"

Sakoda's response is to lift his foot, and stomp down on the outside of the boy's kneecap.

His victim takes in a gulp of air, eyes wide, mouth ajar, and there is a split-second of quiet that Ann waits in, knowing with sick certainty what's coming.

The boy shoots his hands to his knee, and lets out a scream of pain. It develops into words, "Oh my god, oh my god, _oh my god!_ "

Ann can only see so much, but it is enough.

She ducks back behind the corner, and pulls out her burner.

"What're you doing?" Morgana hisses. "We can't-" Ann isn't sure what looks she gives the cat, but whatever it is, it shuts him right up.

She dials, and brings the phone to her ear. "Hello?" She whispers. "Police?"

#

Kazuya Makigami rotates the torsion wrench. Slowly, slowly, and-

"Wow," the blonde boy exclaims. His grip slips, which unbalances the torque. The pins slide back home. He can hear them, as clear as rocks skittering across pavement. "It's pretty cool you know how to do this."

"It's my job," Kaz mutters. Then, as much as it irks him, he adds, " _Sir_."

Company logic dictates 'The Customer is Always Right!' In Kaz's experience, 'The Customer is Always a Fucking Moron.'

He removes his wrench and rolls his shoulder. It's begun to cramp. This is the third time the kid has interrupted.

"If you don't mind," Kaz says, and tries to make his voice sound bright and cheery. "Silence will get me to work faster, and I can be out of your hair in a jiff."

_In a jiff?_

He wants to take the torsion and jab it into his eye. Better yet, he'd rather stick it into the cornea of the blonde kid. Some four-eyed asshole stands behind them both, dicking around on his phone. That one hasn't said a thing, but Kaz would like to stab his jugular just the same.

He knows they think he's a loser. Eighteen, nineteen years old. Dressed in this stupid uniform. Picking the locks of houses and apartments because people were dumb enough to lose their keys.

"Oh, right," the kid replies. He pats the air, as if to placate him. "Sorry, sorry."

Kaz turns back to the lock. He re-inserts the wrench. _Click. Click. Click. Click_. One by one, the pins latch into place, and then he's turning the wrench.

Slowly, slowly, and slowly, and-

There.

The lock clicks open.

"Alright!" The boy says, and pumps his hand in the air.

Kaz slides the wrench back into his kit, clicks the box closed, and stands.

"The company will send you an in-voice," he tells them, and bows. He doesn't bother meeting their eyes. "Thank you for using Rokku Locksmiths."

On his walk to the street, a loose piece of concrete catches the tip of his toe, and he lurches forward, unbalanced. He doesn't trip or fall, he merely staggers, then makes himself straighter than before, and continues on.

He hears nothing behind him, but that doesn't mean they aren't laughing.

He takes his phone from his pocket, pauses long enough to compose a text, and sends it out.

**_KAZ_ ** _: Meet up tonight at the usual place!_

He needs to blow off some steam. Naoya has been talking about moving into the Kosei dorms. He says it's to 'be closer to his studies.'

_Bullshit._

Still, if his brother were to fuck off to the dorms, it'd be one less thing to piss Kaz off. The idiots he kept company with did a good enough job of that.

One of his crew had heard about a good target a bit outside of Shibuya. That was probably for the best. That arm of the Dragon Syndicate, led by Kaneshiro was getting bolder and crazier by the day. They hadn't come for Kaz or any of his people yet, but a friendly little notification had been spread through the underground not too long ago.

No one screws around in Shibuya without Kaneshiro's say so.

Kaz wasn't looking to wind up part of some skyscraper’s foundation. Branching out was a good move.

He keeps walking, oblivious to the two sets of eyes that watch his back, until he disappears around a corner.

#

Haru sits and listens.

"Haru, darling, I know things got heated between us the other night. But I'm sorry. You have to know that. I was never going to hurt you, but I got so worked up and worried over not knowing where you were, that I sort of lost it. Heh, sorry. I don't mean to make light of what I did. Please, just come back, okay? I miss you. Everyone's worried about you. Call me and tell me where you are, okay? Call me. Tell me where you are."

_Beep_.

"Next Message."

"This is getting old, Haru. It's been long enough. Maybe your family doesn't care how this will look, but mine certainly will. If you don't come out of whatever hole you're hiding in, this is going to go very, _very_ badly, got it? Call me. Enough games. Act like an adult. Be a big girl. Call me the second you get this."

_Beep_.

"Next Message."

"Do you think this is a joke? Do you think this is the kind of thing you can just _do?_ I warned you that night. I told you what would happen if you pulled this kind of shit. Stop being a fucking baby, and _tell me where you are_."

_Beep_.

"Next Message."

"Hey, Haru. Listen, I want you to ignore that last message. I didn't mean to blow up like that. But if you don't tell me where you are, things are going to get bad. So just call me, yeah? Call me and tell me where you are, and I'll come pick you up and we can pretend this whole thing never happened. We're going to be married, remember? Ha. How's it going to look if I don't know where my bride-to-be is? Right? Right? Call me."

_Beep_.

"Next Message."

"Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt! Cunt! CUNT! CUNT! CUNT! _CUNT! CUNT! CUNT!_ "

_Beep_.

"Next Message."

"Haru, seriously. Call me and-"

Haru lowers the phone. She doesn't need to listen to the next message. Or the one after it. Or the one after that. She gets the gist.

Makoto had a few errands to run in her capacity as President, so she'd left Haru in the Student Council room.

Saturday afternoon was a time students typically hung out, fresh to the weekend.

Haru was spending it hidden away from her fiancé.

Once her hands stop shaking, she opens the Nav app.

She flips through the appropriate buttons.

She recalls what Akira told them about how it worked.

_A place. His Palace would be a place special to him_.

For Kamoshida, it was the school.

For Madarame, it was his atelier.

For Sugimura, it would be...

"Apartment."

Nothing.

"Summer home."

Nothing.

She rattles off the name of a few brothels she knows he frequents.

Nothing.

She speaks the name of the private school he attended.

Nothing.

She goes for broader. His home district. The island on which the summer home sits. She tries for vacation spots he never shuts up about.

Nothing. Nothing. And nothing.

Haru claws through her mind. What else was there? She knows all these things about Sugimura. How could she expect the Phantom Thieves to change his heart? If she couldn't think of the keywords, how were they supposed to?

Was there any other place he liked to go? It seemed all he ever did was drive around in that stupid, oversized car of his and-

"Car," Haru says, as the door opens.

"Match Found."

Haru looks into the eyes of Makoto, who stares back at her.

"It's his car," Haru tells her. "That's his Palace."

Makoto shuts the door, and takes a seat across from her. "You used the app?"

Haru nods. "I know we promised we wouldn't. But I couldn't help it. I haven't let you listen to the messages he's left me. They're just... crazy, Mako-chan."

Her friend folds her hands together, face smooth. "You want to ask Akira and the others for help?"

She wets her lips with her tongue, and tastes a faint hint of sweat. "I don't know what else to do."

"I think I might," Makoto replies. "I finally got in contact with my father's old partner. He's still on the force. You said Sugimura left you messages? That's evidence." She allows a faint smile onto her face, one Haru doesn't share. "Sugimura may be rich, but he's very dumb. If we let my father’s friend hear those messages, I'm sure he'll help."

"But-"

"This is my fault, Haru," Makoto says, smile gone. "I got too wrapped up in the hunt for the Phantom Thieves. I didn't dedicate enough time to helping you."

"Mako-chan, you're letting me live with you, and-"

"But we both know that's only a temporary solution. I think our best course of action is taking this evidence against Sugimura to my father's friend."

Haru looks down at her phone. She suspects Makoto is right.

What would happen if she asked the Phantom Thieves for help now? She knows they would help, but how long would it take?

They would still have to figure out the last keyword.

Then, they would have to figure out a way to get into the Palace. Which was a car.

Then, they'd have to fight their way through the Palace to reach the Treasure.

Then, they'd have to send a Calling Card.

Then, they'd have to get _back_ into the Palace - which, again, was a car - and steal the Treasure.

On the phone, Sugimura sounded borderline psychotic. How long could she reasonably wait for the Phantom Thieves to complete their mission? How long could she stay holed up at Makoto's? How long before Sugimura found her again?

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s meet with this officer.”

#

There are so many, 'That's the thing about Tokyo’s,' that the phrase is little more than a cliché.

But clichés only become clichés because they're so used.

And really, that _is_ the thing about Tokyo. It's so big and so congested and so packed with people and cars and neon and noise that you can hide just about anywhere.

Sugimura watches the two girls step onto the block. He watches walk down the sidewalk, oblivious, lost in whatever pleasant conversation they're having. He watches them enter Niijima's building.

His car is parked in an alley across the street. The black behemoth would stick out to anyone who bothered to think about it.

But hey, that's the thing about Tokyo.

At the sight of Haru, Sugimura keeps his cool.

Relatively speaking.

He doesn't bolt out of the car. He doesn't charge her. Doesn't lambast her in front of the whole world.

The Niijimas would make too much noise if he did something like that.

He has his plan.

The little bitch thinks she can just wander off and disrespect him?

He'll show her.

He'll show everyone.

Soon enough, Haru Okumura will be the pliable, obedient little wife he was promised.

#

Akira spins the lock pick between his fingers.

_One, two, three_ , he thinks, as it weaves. _One, two_ -

On the last bit, it slips and clatters to the floor. He leans forward and snatches it back up.

"So yeah," Ann continues. "After I called the police, we took off. I hope that kid was okay."

"I dunno," Morgana mutters, from where he sits in Ann's lap. "I think Sakoda really messed up his leg."

Ryuji rubs a hand over his own leg, a sour look on his face. "That sack of shit, Sakoda. If I'd been there, I would've done something."

_Which is why_ , Akira thinks, _I didn't ask you to do it_.

"But we've our proof now, yes?" Yusuke asks, from where he sits on the couch. "Yoshimori Sakoda, Nozomi Odo, and Kazuya Makigami." He counts each on his fingers. "All three are guilty of the crimes accused against them."

Ryuji crosses his arms and nods. "Which means it's time for the Phantom Thieves to take 'em down!"

While they'd been in school during the day, Morgana had snuck back into Oda's office and discovered the blackmail material. Unprotected. On his desktop. In a file marked 'Blackmail.'

The cat grins. "Easiest infiltration I've ever done."

Ryuji reaches over and pats Akira on the shoulder. "And thanks to our mirroring Makigami's GPS, we can trace him to the site of every robbery his little gang of crooks committed."

Akira smiles back at his friend. In truth, he'd been hesitant to use Ryuji's address to lure Kazuya Makigami out. Pretending to have lost his keys, Ryuji had called Rokku Locksmiths and requested the thief personally, per a recommendation.

It wasn't perfect, but they had all their evidence.

Ann strokes Morgana's head. "Okay, but so what? Yeah, we got the evidence, but now we've got to get the Calling Cards and get them into their hands. Plus, weren't we going to be doing this all at once?"

He sets to spinning the lock pick through his fingers once more. "It's the best way," he says. "To ensure no one traces us to Shujin. Makigami and Odo have no connection to the school. We'll publicize those two, and help Daisuke by changing Sakoda's heart."

_Which means I've got to call Ohya soon and get her the news._

Yusuke stands. "Then, I shall set about making the Cards."

"And we'll have to brainstorm how to get them to our targets," Morgana says, sticking out a paw in Akira's direction.

Ryuji shrugs. "Odo shouldn't be a problem, yeah? I mean, you can just sneak back into his office and leave it on his desk."

"Piece of cake," the cat replies.

Akira frowns. "Makigami might be harder."

Yusuke stares at the ceiling, and frowns. "Might Naoya be able to help? He could easily bring the card into his home and leave it where his brother will discover it."

Akira shakes his head. "Too risky. That would mean we'd have to send him a message, get him to come to some place with no connection to us, pick up the card, bring it back to his house, and leave it somewhere without losing it or getting caught." He shrugs. "Plus, how would it look if the Phantom Thieves asked a teenager to help plant a Calling Card?"

Ryuji and Ann glance at one another. "Uh, bro?" Ryuji asks. " _We're_ teenagers."

Akira laughs. "Well, duh. But the rest of the world doesn't know that." The lock pick slips his grip once more. "Damn." He takes it back up. "Honestly, though? Sakoda will probably be the biggest problem."

"Why?" Ann asks. "Couldn't we just leave it somewhere for him at school?"

Akira shakes his head. "We don't want to draw any attention to Shujin, remember? We'd need to do it in a way that as few people as possible would find out. Another Calling Card showing up at Shujin would be enough, at this point, to make the news."

"His house, then?" Yusuke asks. "That's what was done with Daisuke."

"Maybe," Akira says. He starts to spin the lock pick once more. "Maybe."

He lets his thoughts drift. _How_ are _we going to do this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Happy Labor Day!
> 
> A slow chapter, but things are still trucking along!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	75. Authorities

6/12

 

"That's it?" Ohya asks. She studies him over the top of her coffee mug, the steam fogging up the aviators that hang over her eyes.

"You sound disappointed."

"The Phantom Thieves go from Madarame to a jackass convenience store manager and some kid over-compensating by committing petty thefts?" She shrugs. "Why wouldn’t I be disappointed?"

Akira takes a sip of his own drink. "Sorry they're not flashy enough for you."

"Flashy sells, Akira. People love to watch others crash and burn. Especially if those ‘others’ are former darlings. No one gives a shit about some dopey asshole working at a 7-11." She lifts her mug and chugs. Akira winces. Once done, Ohya growls out a, "Hey, Boss? Another one, yeah?"

Akira glances over to where Sojiro stands behind the bar, drying cups. They've been careful enough to keep their voices down, but Akira doesn't know if it'll last. It's only early Sunday afternoon, but he's already heard Ohya slur her words twice.

"Look," he says, leaning forward. "Maybe you should have some water. Hydrate, you know? Maybe-"

"What're you?" She asks. Akira can see his own worried expression reflected in the glass of her aviators. "A fucking scientist?"

He throws his hands in the air. "Fine, forget I said anything."

Sojiro walks over, fresh cup of coffee in his hand, and sets it down in front of Ohya. He picks up the empty mug and says, "Everything okay over here?"

Ohya flashes him a smile he doesn't mirror. "Everything's peachy, Boss."

Sojiro, frown set deep on his face, nods and heads back behind the bar.

"Anyway," Ohya says. "It is what it is. Thanks for the info." She smirks at him, and Akira suddenly feels he's been vivisected. "How'd you find out about these guys anyway?"

Akira shrugs, and takes another swig. "I told you, I know the admin of their website."

"Uh-huh," Ohya replies. "Any idea why they decided to take out a few bottom feeders? Instead of, you know, a corrupt businessman or something?"

Akira shakes his head. "No idea. Maybe they're trying to help as many people as possible? Their targets may not be big shots, but that doesn't make their victims any less... uh, victimized."

"Eloquently put."

He glares at her. "You're not exactly composing poetry."

Her chuckle is almost a cackle. "Nice burn."

Akira rolls his eyes. "Whatever." He steals a look over towards the bar, but Sojiro has his back turned, and seems preoccupied with the set-up back there. "Heard anything about Principal Kobayakawa?" He whispers. "Anything new?"

"You mean, since two days ago?" Akira nods. "No, I haven't." She frowns. "Have you?"

Akira shakes his head. "Nothing. Just thought I'd ask."

His phone vibrates. He takes it from his pocket.

"That one of your harem?" Ohya asks. When Akira groans, she snickers.

**_IWAI_** _: Kid, come to the shop. I gotta talk with you_.

Akira blinks. "That's weird."

"What is?"

"It's from Iwai."

Ohya's hand snaps out and snatches the phone away from him.

"Hey!"

She lowers her glasses, revealing bloodshot eyes and studies the two sentence text. "I don't like this."

Akira reaches out and pulls his phone away from her. "What're you talking about?"

"I told you about that guy," she replies. "What he used to be. He's not someone you should be hanging around with."

"Some could say the same about you."

"Hey," she says, voice stern. "I'm serious, dammit. I know you think you've got a handle on things, but you've got no idea what Munehisa Iwai has done or what he could do still."

"Ohya," Akira replies. "Trust me. If there's one thing I know I don't have, it's a handle on things."

#

In the times when Haru is alone, when it's only her and her reflection in a bathroom mirror, or in the quiet of her own room, she can admit the fear to herself. The nauseating, blood-rushing, lizard brain terror that churns up inside her like a tidal wave, ready to engulf her and drag her into an ocean of inky black.

She knows it is something that allows her to be controlled. She knows the science of fear, and how it affects her body and mind. She knows the math of it.

It still terrifies her. She can forget about it for a while, bury herself in the affairs of Mako-chan, Akira-kun, the Phantom Thieves. Push her own problems away to another day. It's more fun that way. More fun to live, however briefly, in a world where her future isn't the bleak landscape she knows it to be.

But fantasies end.

Life finds you, even when you don't want it to.

She doesn't want to hope because she doesn't want to be let down.

Haru steps out into the summer afternoon.

Makoto had gone on ahead to meet up with her contact. Haru had needed a bit more time to steel herself.

If she revealed those messages to the police, if could spark a lot of unpleasantness. Things could get ugly. Mean. Dirty.

But what else can she do?

Because, despite knowing that there's a slim chance of this working, Haru lets herself hope. Even as the fear sinks through her. Even as it gnaws at her. She's going to try. She'll try and rid herself of Rin Sugimura, once and for all.

She takes a deep breath, turns in the direction of the station, and begins to march.

She makes it a few yards before Sugimura grabs her, drags her into an alley, and fits a rag wet with something over her mouth.

Then she's gone.

#

The man sits in a corner booth, the ghost light of a smartphone pale across his face. It's a face she recognizes but does not remember. She can see the old edges, the blocky nose, the perpetual frown, but all of it is coated with extra bits. Jowly cheeks. An extra chin. The man's brow looms above his eyes. He is rounder now, and somehow the suit he wears still seems too big.

"Um," Makoto starts. "Officer Kagawa?"

Hideotoshi Kagawa looks up at her, and for a brief second, there's no recognition. She sees the years hanging off him like gravity, and wonders, _If my father had lived, would he have looked like this?_

Then, life injects itself back into his eyes. The frown shatters into a smile and the man drops his phone onto the table and lifts his hands high into the air. "Mini-Makoto!" He cries. Makoto can feel the eyes of distracted cafe-goers on her back, but she pays them no mind.

"It's good to see you," she says, and bows.

Officer Kagawa pushes himself half out of his seat, bobbing his head in a close approximation of a bow. His laugh is a bellow from his belly. "It's been too long. Too long. I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch. The job pays havoc on your personal time." He pats his stomach. "Not to mention your diet," and he howls again. "How are _you?_ How's your sister?"

"Sae's good," Makoto replies, eyeing the chair across from him. "May I sit?"

"Absolutely," he says, gesturing. "Please, please."

Makoto sits and smiles at this man who worked alongside her father for so many years.  
"Heard she's really making a name for herself at the SIU," Kagawa whispers, as if the information were confidential. "She put away that bastard Kamoshida, yeah?"

Makoto nods. "Yes, she was involved in the prosecution of that case." _Though, now that I think about it, wasn't that a conflict of interest?_ She shakes her head. She didn't have the time to think about that.

"How have you been?" She asks.

The man shrugs. "Eh. You know. The job is the job. It takes its toll." He picks up his phone, smiling, and runs his fingers across the screen. "Here, check it out!" He turns the phone towards her. Two smiling little girls grin up into the screen. "Look how big they got!"

Makoto wants to swallow, but stops herself. She had forgotten Officer Kagawa had children. "They look healthy," she replies, and wants to kick herself at the dumb response.

His smile breaks for a moment. "Well, that's thanks to their mother. Living out in the mountains, you know, they got a lot of clean air. Not like this place." He waves his hand in a slow circle above his head. "This place is a cesspool. Not somewhere kids should grow up." He frowns. "No offense."

Makoto shakes her head. "No, it's quite alright." She doesn't ask the obvious question, why his children are living with their mother somewhere out in the mountains. "I'm sorry to reach out to you like this. I know you must be very busy."

He grins. "I'm never too busy for Akihiko's kids."

Makoto stiffens at the sound of her father's name. It's strange. She hasn't heard it spoken in so long. It's always been 'Dad' or 'Father.' Never 'Officer Akihiko Niijima.' She can't stop herself from swallowing this time.

Her reaction must be obvious, because the glee fades from Kagawa's face. "Three years already." He sighs. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but that's not enough time to forget."

"No, it's not."

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Like I said, I'm fine." Makoto tries to reply with cheer.

He shakes his head. "No, you didn't say anything. You said your sister was good. I'm asking how you are."

_Confused. Scared. Angry_. "I'm alright," she says. "Really. But I did want to ask you something." She puts herself back together and says, "To be honest, my friend and I need your help."

She tells him the situation. Spells it out, as clear as she can make it. He listens, asks no questions, and when the story is complete, he leans back in his chair and sighs.

"Geez," he mutters.

"Do you think you can help us?"

"Your friend is Haru Okumura, as in Okumura Foods?" Makoto nods. "And her fiancé is Rin Sugimura, as in _the_ Sugimuras?" Makoto nods again. "Geez," he repeats.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. "I know it's a lot to ask, but we're out of options and we don't know what else to do. Sugimura has been leaving her these disturbing messages. I'm afraid that if we don't get the authorities involved, and soon, she may be in danger."

Kagawa drums his fingers across the table. "These messages, you have them?"

"Yes."

"And they're clearly from Sugimura's phone? It's clearly his voice?"

"They are."

"Why come to me?" Kagawa asks. Makoto blinks at the change of subject. "Why not take them to your sister?"

"Sae..." Makoto starts, but cannot finish. What could she say? Sae's intervention only made things worse. She focuses on Kagawa's face. _And this? Will this make it worse too?_ "I came to you because of your relationship with my father. I wanted to give the evidence to someone I could trust."

Kagawa reaches up and digs his thumbs into his temples, rolling them slowly, slowly, slowly. Then, he lets out another sigh that grows in volume until it turns into a groan. "Alright, fine. I'll help."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He leans forward and taps the table with his forefinger. "But you need to be aware of what you're doing, yeah?"

She stares at him. "What I'm doing?"

"The Sugimuras aren't people the police can just shove around."

_Shove around?_

"We'll need to be smart about how we go about this. Rin Sugimura, from what I've heard, is a little shit. But his father's a big player in politics. This may come back to bite you in unexpected ways."

Makoto shakes her head. "I'm prepared for that. So long as my friend is-"

"Are you? Are you really? Because one thing they could do, and I'm just spitballing here, is ruin your sister's career."

"Wh-what?"

Kagawa drops his head in exasperation. "Mini-Makoto, tell me you thought about that. Your sister is a Public Prosecutor, heavily involved in the SIU. The SIU relies on the goodwill of political factions. If Sugimura decides he wants to pay you back for his son's stupidity, then he could make an enemy of them." He shrugs. "Then again, the SIU is backed by some powerful people. But, the SIU could also decide that they'd rather not get into a pissing match, and just can your sister right there and then."

The words are barbs, cutting into her. "But that... that's not-"

"Fair?" Kagawa asks. He doesn't elaborate. They both know what they could say. _Your Dad got hit by a truck. What part of that was fair?_

Her father's friend sets both hands on the table and expels a good amount of air. "Look, I'm sorry. I just want you to be prepared for what could happen. Politics and law enforcement don't generally go well together." He leans forward. "Why don't you let me hear those messages?"

Makoto nods. "R-right. Haru is bringing them. She should be here any minute."

He arches a brow. "She didn't come with you?"

"I had a few errands to run before I came here. She'll be meeting us soon."

Kagawa frowns. "How about you try calling her, then? To see where she is."

Makoto nods and pulls out her phone. There are no new messages. No voicemails. Nothing. She dials Haru's number and holds it up to her ear. It rings and goes to voicemail. She tries again. It rings and goes to voicemail.

Makoto begins to feel the dread creep into her.

She tries again. It rings and goes to voicemail.

She lowers the phone and texts a message.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Haru where are you?_

She waits. No response.

"No," she whispers. "Oh, no."

#

As Akira moves to enter Untouchable, a young man in a hoodie shoves past him. He flashes Akira a glare, then stomps off down the street, a plastic bag slung across his back. Akira rolls his shoulders and steps inside the shop.

Iwai stands behind the counter, as always, hat low across his face. He counts a few yen across the counter. _Flip, flip, flip, flip_ , as he lays them down.

"Good haul?" Akira asks.

"Mnnn," the older man replies. He takes up the bills once more, counts them again and, evidently satisfied, shoves them into the register.

"So," Akira says, suddenly very conscious that this is his first conversation with the man where he's been aware of his past. "What's up?"

Iwai doesn't look at him. He moves out from behind the counter and heads down one of the aisles. "Hey," he growls out. "We're closin' early. If there's anyone in here, time to go."

No response.

Iwai continues his inspection, stepping around and over merchandise. When he returns to the front, he still doesn't look at Akira. He goes to the door, and locks it.

_Hoo boy,_ Akira thinks. His mind begins to race. What did Iwai want with him?

"I don't believe in excuses," Iwai finally says. "But that doesn't mean I don't believe in regret." He turns to him. "Anyone who ever tells you that they've lived a life with no regret is a damn liar."

"Uh, okay."

"We all do things. Things to survive. Things we _think_ we need to do to survive." He straightens at this last part. "It's one thing to regret, it's another to shy away from it. I am what I am. I did what I did." He moves a step towards Akira, and his foot bumps against a loose box. He stumbles a moment, and scowls. Then he lifts his head and looks at Akira. "What'd you think of me?"

Akira stares back at him. "I don't know much about you."

"I asked you what you think of me, not what you know about me."

Akira sticks his hands in his pockets, and frowns. "You let some shady kid pawn a bunch of stuff off in your perfectly legitimate store. You get that same kid burner phones and gadgets that are possibly illegal. Sometimes you tell him how to use them. You also asked that same kid to watch your son while you went to some strange meeting, and you haven't told him what that's about yet." Akira musters himself up, and says, "So I think you're sketchy as shit, but I don't think you're a bad person."

_No need to bring up the yakuza connection_. Who knew what Iwai would do if Akira mentioned that, 'Oh yeah, and you also used to be in the Dragon Syndicate.'

Iwai grins then, but it is a painful thing to look at. “You need to understand that sometimes you don’t have good choices. That sometimes your choices are shit.”

Akira does not like where any of this is going. “Look, if this is about me babysitting Kaoru again, you can just go ahead and ask, it’s no big de-“

“Dammit, Kurusu,” Iwai spits. “Get serious.”

Akira lifts his hands. “Okay, sorry. Bad joke.”

Iwai frowns. “I don’t mean to snap. Look, you got family?”

Akira swallows. “I do.”

“What’re they like.”

“Not your business.”

Iwai guffaws. “That bad, huh? Maybe we got some things in common after all. My mother was nuts. The bad kind of nuts. Drinking. Drugs. Sleeping with anyone who had two coins to rub together. All with me sitting in the kitchen, thinkin’, ‘When’s dinner coming?’”

Akira averts his gaze. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Iwai says. “Yeah.” He scowls. "I did... I need your help," he says. He reaches out and places a hand on Akira's shoulder. "I did something. For Kaoru. And it-"

Akira's phone vibrates. He reaches for it.

Iwai swats his hand away. "Ignore the damn phone."

"Whoa," Akira says, and takes a step back. "Look, I don't know what this is, but maybe you should calm down." He takes his phone out.

"Kid, _listen_ ," Iwai says, but Akira isn't.

**_MAKOTO_ ** _: Call me! Haru's gone!_

Akira brings the phone to his ear. It rings once. "Akira?" Makoto's voice, but manic and high.

"Makoto, what's happening?" Akira asks.

"Akira," Iwai growls. "I need to tell you-"

Akira turns away from him. "...can't reach her," Makoto is saying. "We were going to meet with an old friend of my dad's, but she's not answering and I don't know where she is. She isn't _answering_."

_Maybe this is like the day at Shibuya. Makoto panicked when Haru went missing, but it all turned out to be fine_. Except, it hadn’t been fine, because Akira had accidentally sent Haru to the Metaverse. And he hadn't done that this time. _What if it's that guy? Her fiancé?_ Akira feels his heart begin to pound in his chest. "I'm on my way." He lowers the phone. Looks at Iwai. "I have to go."

"This is important, kid, you don't-"

Akira isn't listening. He shoves the door open, and spares nothing more than a, "So is this," before taking off down the street at a sprint. "Makoto?" He says, phone back to his ear. "Tell me where you are."

#

The sound of a car door opening jars her.

Haru's eyes flutter open to catch the receding back of Sugimura as he walks away from her. The door to his car is open. Haru tries to take in her environment. They're in some big parking garage.

Panic slams into her like a wave. It pushes the dreariness out of her veins and she starts fumbling around with her pockets.

Phone? Phone? Where was her _phone?_ She rips it from her pocket.

No bars. She tries to call, but nothing happens. She sends a text to Makoto, a hastily constructed string of words that mean little, but it rejects.

Wherever they are, her phone is useless.

She crawls towards the door. Sugimura, in his mania, may have forgotten he left it open, or perhaps he figured that the stuff he'd used to knock Haru out would last longer.

She inches her way forward, then stops.

Sugimura is not alone.

A tall man, muscular, with dark eyes, stares down at him. He is flanked by other men, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, their clothes the ritzy, glamourous apparel of gangsters.

Haru tries to contain her gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. _Are they yakuza?_ Why was Sugimura meeting with yakuza? What were they planning on doing?

Sugimura spreads his hands wide, and Haru can almost feel the sick grin on his face. "Afternoon, my friend," he says, words echoing through the garage.

"What're you doing here?" The big man asks, arms crossed, frown on his face. "If you're here for that one girl..." He snaps his fingers. "Nanashi, what's the name of the one we gave him?"

One of the yakuza answers. Haru can’t hear the response.

"That's it," the big man replies. He turns back to Sugimura. "If you're looking for her, she's working."

"Actually," Sugimura says. "I had an idea about that. I was so pleased with your product last time, I figured you could help me with my troubles."

The big man sighs, reaches up, and rubs his temple with one hand. "I've got a lot on my mind, kid. Get to the point."

"I told you," Sugimura says, and steps away so the yakuza members can see his car. "That I was having problems with my fiancée, right?"

Haru ducks back behind the door, and out of sight. _Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god._ He's brought her here? _Why?_

_Think_ , she commands herself. _Think, think, think, think!_

"What about it?" The yakuza boss asks.

There has to be a way out. She scurries across the floor of the car and tries the other door. Nothing. It's locked. She tries to pull up the knob to get it open, but it won't move.

"I was thinking," Suigmura says. "That maybe you could do to her what you do to your other girls. Make her nice and obedient. I'd pay handsomely, of course."

Haru wants to throw up. She tries to force herself to ignore what's going on outside, but she can't. She begins to shake. She's trapped here. There's no way out.

"I'm tired of running after her," Sugimura continues. "Tired of her disrespecting me. After seeing how well your girls treat people of my stature, I thought, 'Hey, why can't Haru act like that?' With a little help from you, of course."

She hugs her knees to her chest. Squeezes her eyes shut. _Someone, help. Help me. Get me out of here._

_You already have a way out_ , says a voice. She opens her eyes.

The phone.

She pulls it out. Still no bars. But she was wrong. There was still something she could use on it. She digs through her brain for all the information on Palaces Akira had shared.

_Sugimura has a Palace. His Palace is his car. I'm_ in _his car_! If she could get into his Palace, she would disappear from reality. She had no idea what to do then, but at least she wouldn't be _here_.

She hears the big man speak. "The woman you're engaged to, it's Haru Okumura, right?"

"Uh-huh," Sugimura says.

"The daughter of the CEO of Okumura Foods, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And I'm guessing she didn't come here willingly, did she?"

Sugimura laughs at this. "Of course not. She's unconscious and in the backseat of my car."

Haru pulls up the app. Shifts to Sugimura's name. _I need his distortion, right? What he thinks his car is?_ "Castle," she whispers.

"No Match Found," says the phone.

"So," the big man continues. "You knocked the daughter of Okumura Foods' CEO unconscious, with the intention of drugging her up so much that she doesn't know what's real and what isn't, and you brought her here, to me, because you figured I could help you with that?"

"Uh," Sugimura says, suddenly not sounding so sure. "Yeah."

"Mansion," Haru whispers.

"No Match Found."

The sound of flesh hitting flesh, accompanied by a shriek of pain from Sugimura.

"Palace," Haru blurts.

"No Match Found." Because of course that isn't right. _That's just another type of Castle_ , Haru scolds herself. _Think!_

"You stupid limp dick little shit," the big man says, his voice so cold and quiet. "Have fucking dumb do you have to be?"

"I-" Haru hears Sugimura moan. "I thought-" Again that _smack_. Again that cry.

"That's your problem, kid. You don't know _how_ to think."

"Garage,” Haru whispers.

"No Match Found."

_Think, think, THINK!_

#

Kaneshiro flexes his knuckles and stares at the prone form of Sugimura, who clutches at his face and stares up at him, wide eyed.

Even his bones had felt soft.

He feels Nanashi step up behind him. "Boss?"

Kaneshiro nods. "She was never here," he says, stepping over Sugimura. "This kind of mess is too much of a pain in the ass to clean up, so we won't let it become a mess."

"Wh-what?" Sugimura asks, and sits up.

Kaneshiro ignores him. "Muzaki, take care of the girl. Once you're done, drive her out to the bay and sink her, deep."

"Hold on," Sugimura mumbles. "That's my wife."

"Fiancée," Kaneshiro says, and kneels down next to him. "And you'll have to find another." He reaches out and closes a fist around the boy's neck. "I don't care what you think of me after this, but if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, including your father, you will die."

"My father will-"

"Your father," Kaneshiro cuts in. "May well disinherit you for the bullshit you pulled today. Do yourself a favor. Once we take that girl out of the car, get back in it yourself, and drive away. Pretend this was all a bad dream." He pats Sugimura's cheek and stands. "Muzaki."

The man nods, and strides towards the car.

"And don't pull any shit with the girl before you off her," Kaneshiro says. "It'll be bad enough if someone finds her. I'd rather not have to explain why she'd been deflowered."

Muzaki grunts in response, reaches the car, and throws the already slightly ajar door wide open. He stands still, frowning.

He turns back to Kaneshiro. "Boss?"

Kaneshiro walks up to him, and his enforcer steps out of the way. Kaneshiro bends down and peers inside. The car is empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, I'm about to hit the road.
> 
> Got something of a family situation going on. I'll do my best to update on Monday, but at the moment, there's no guarantee. I wouldn't call this a long hiatus or anything, just something that'll take the weekend.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	76. Bastion

Akira hurls himself around the corner and onto Makoto's street. He spies her outside her building, pacing a few yards' worth of sidewalk, hands balling and releasing, balling and releasing, again and again.

A portly man stands still as a barrel beside her, phone gripped in meaty fingers, the makings a scowl on his face.

"Hey," Akira says, when he reaches her.

"Akira," she cries, and for a moment, it seems as though she'll throw her arms around him, but she doesn't, and instead grabs him by the collar of his shirt and gently but firmly shoves him backwards until they are walking in lockstep away from the man.

"What're you-" Akira starts.

Makoto interrupts. "I don't know what happened," she says. "Haru was supposed to meet me an hour ago, but I haven't heard from her. She's not here. This was the last place she was, and she's not _here_."

They come to a stop and Akira brings his hands up to take hold of her wrists. "Makoto, I-"

"He kept leaving her these threatening phone messages," Makoto cuts in. "They just got worse and worse. Akira, they were crazy, and I told her we should bring them to the police."

Akira's gaze flickers back to the bigger man. "Is th-"

"So I called an old friend of my father's." She jerks her head back. "That's him. Officer Hideotoshi Kagawa. He was my father's partner for years. I thought he could help. I told Haru he could help."

"Where-"

"She was messing with the app," Makoto says, voice in a sudden whisper. "Yesterday. I found her messing with it because she was so scared. She guessed his second keyword. The phone said 'Match Found,' or whatever." Her grip tightens on Akira's collar. "She was scared and I told her I could help. This is my fault."

"Makoto," Akira declares, as loud as he can without making a scene. He wants to tell her to calm down, but figures doing so would only serve to rile her up more. He glances once more, over at the man now revealed to be a cop. He watches the two of them with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. As much as he hates to ask it, he does. "How much does he know?"

Makoto glares at him, and then, to her credit, relaxes the gaze. "Only what I told him about Haru and her fiancée. He doesn't know anything about... that other thing." Akira is ready to say more, but Makoto interrupts as he opens his mouth. "We can trust him, Akira. He offered to help. Your problems aren't important right now. We need to find Haru."

He gently pulls her hands from him, and steps clear of her grasp. "You're right. I just had to know. Bring me up to speed."

Makoto summarizes as they make their way back to Officer Kagawa.

Haru was supposed to meet them at the cafe.

Haru hadn't shown up.

Haru had intended to leave directly from Makoto's apartment.

Haru wasn't answering her phone, or replying to any messages.

"The last time this happened," Makoto says, as they step up to the officer. "Was when I first encountered Sugimura."

"Everything good?" Kagawa asks, eyeing the two of them.

"Yes," Makoto says, and gestures to Akira. "Officer Kagawa, this is Akira Kurusu. He's my friend." She looks at Akira. "This is Officer Kagawa, Akira. He was my father's partner on the police force for years."

"Nice to meet you," Officer Kagawa says, then shrugs. "Wish it were under better circumstances."

"Likewise," Akira replies, although even as he says it, he can tell it sounds little more than a grunt. Kagawa frowns, but Akira ignores this and turns his head to Makoto. "You said Sugimura. Is that his name?"

"I saw him pushing her around outside Shujin a few weeks ago. That's when I first became aware of the problem. I tried to intervene, and... well, it went poorly."

"Poorly?" Akira asks. "What happened?"

"Is it relevant to right now?" Kagawa asks. Akira blinks and turns to him, frowning.

Makoto shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Then, why don't we push on, yeah?"

Makoto nods, and Akira is left wondering what had truly happened that day at Shujin. "Afterwards, I couldn't get a hold of her for a while. She wouldn't call me back or reply. I didn't know what to do. It's him. It's got to be him." She shuts her eyes. Inhales a long, deep breath. Lets it out. "We need to retrace his movements. Figure out how he got to her. The distance from here to the cafe isn't that large, so it must've-"

"Whoa there, Mini-Makoto," Kagawa says.

Akira's brain stumbles at the nickname. _Mini-Makoto?_

"Look," he continues. "I get why you're worried, but you have no evidence to suggest this is any kind of kidnapping. Or that it's anything, really."

"She's not answering her phone," Makoto blurts, as if that were the most unnatural thing in the world.

"All that's evidence of, is that she's not answering her phone." He gestures to himself. "You say she was on her way to meet us. Maybe she got cold feet. Maybe she's scared. I'm not saying everything is fine, but maybe everything isn't a complete disaster."

"No," Makoto states. "No, she wouldn't do that. She would've showed up. She was afraid, but she was still going to show up."

Kagawa stares up at the sky, folds his hands across his belly, and taps it with his thumbs. "Alright. But we should rule out that she went anywhere else. Where does she like to go?"

Makoto cringes. "She's been staying with me these last few days. I don't-"

"The flower shop," Akira suggests. Kagawa swivels his massive head towards him. "She works at a flower shop. Rafflesia. At Shibuya Underground."

"And you know this, because...?"

"Because I work there with her."

"And was she scheduled to work there today?"

Akira shakes his head. "We've got the same schedule, so no. But I know she likes it there."

Kagawa checks his watch. "It's been an hour since the meeting, and it'll take a bit to head there and check it out. One of us should stay here in case she comes back. That should be you, Makoto."

"There's no time," Makoto says, and throws her hands into the air. "You didn't hear the messages he left for her. If Sugimura does have her, then there's no time to be going around the city looking for her."

Akira clears his throat, and pulls his phone from his pocket. "Why don't I message the others?" He suggests. "They're probably hanging around Shibuya today. They could go check Rafflesia for us."

Kagawa nods. "Good idea. Go for it."

Akira frowns and pulls up his messenger app. _Haru should've just come to us_. Even with that errant thought in his head, he hopes this cop is right. Maybe Haru did just get freaked out and run off.

Or maybe not.

Haru and Makoto already confirmed Sugimura to have a Palace. That meant he was dangerous, possibly even crazy.

The Phantom Thieves needed to find out the last keyword, and fast. _And if we do?_ The guy's Palace was, according to Makoto, a car. Akira hadn't even had time to process that yet. _How the hell are we supposed to get inside a Palace that moves?_ It wasn't like the atelier or the school.

He types out his message.

_One thing at a time_ , he tells himself. _One thing at a time_.

#

Ryuji tosses down the gun with a cry of, "This is bullshit!"

"Wow," Morgana says, from where he perches on Yusuke's shoulder. "You really suck at this game."

"Can it, cat," Ryuji mutters.

Yusuke nods, sagely. "I must concur. Though, I believe it was your pursuit of the highest possible score that led to your downfall."

"News Flash, bro. That's the point."

Yusuke shakes his head. "Those terrorists, dressed in yellow were worth an extra five thousand points, yes?"

Ryuji shrugs. "Yeah, so."

"So, their bright colors drew your eye, and having spotted them, you attempted to shoot them for more points. This, ultimately, left you exposed to the other enemies that were already on screen. Who, I believe the expression go thusly, 'pumped your guts full of lead.'"

Ryuji thinks this over. He did get shot _a lot_ when the yellow bastards popped up. _Is that why I never win this game?_ He thinks, then shrugs it off. "Whatever dude, let's get a soda."

Yusuke's face brightens. "Ah, sugar! Yes, let's." They leave the game behind and head towards the snack bar, and as Ryuji leans across the counter, waving down the attendant, his friend continues with, "I suffer something similar when I craft my art."

"Oh yeah?" Ryuji asks, only half paying attention. "You shoot a bunch of yellow guys when you paint?"

"You know," Morgana says. "Maybe if you listened to Yusuke more, you'd learn a thing or two, Ryuji."

"For so long," Yusuke says. "I have striven to paint something for the ages. Yet, whenever I make such an attempt, I find that I fall far short of where I hope to arrive."

Morgana tilts his head. "So, by trying to paint something amazing, you end up painting something not amazing?"

"To put it ineloquently, yes," Yusuke replies. "It is a lesson I must force myself to relearn, again and again. Art must be pursued for art's own sake. Not for the sake of that which might come with art."

The attendant brings them two sodas, eyes the cat on Yusuke's shoulder, shrugs, presents a receipt. Ryuji slides some yen across the counter. Exact change. "What's 'that which might come with art,' or whatever, supposed to mean?"

"Fame, fortune," Yusuke says, before taking a sip of his soda.

"Doesn't sound so bad to me," Morgana replies, and Ryuji concurs with a grunt.

"But look at what end those pursuits brought to Madarame."

A quiet falls over the trio.

Morgana tries to break it. "Madarame's desires got all twisted up and distorted. What he wanted wasn't a natural thing."

"Yeah," Ryuji says. "Mona's right. I don't think there's anything bad with wanting to be rich and famous. Just don't be a dick about it."

Yusuke fixes him with a frown. "And how does one _not_ 'be a dick' about it?"

Ryuji scratches his head. "Like, I dunno. Just don't be an asshole. I mean, it's not that hard."

"You could start by feeding your apprentices," Morgana suggests.

Ryuji cringes, but Yusuke chuckles. "A good, solid idea, Morgana."

Their phones vibrate at the same time. The two slip them free.

"It's from Akira," Ryuji says, and his eyes widen.

**_AKIRA_ ** _: Emergency! All hand's on deck, everyone!_

Ryuji glances up and meets Yusuke's gaze. "So much for taking another crack at the high score."

Yusuke nods. "We shall have to tilt at windmills another day."

Ryuji blinks. "What's that mean?"

His friend shakes his head. "Nothing. Never mind. We should go."

 #

The car pulls out of the garage, punctuated by the shrill squeal of a tire's echo.  
Kaneshiro stares after it, flanked by his men. He turns to them, and thinks but doesn't say, _This is very bad._

"Spread out. Find her."

Muzaki and Nanashi nod and split apart in silence. The former heads back inside, and the latter jogs in the direction the car took. The other three cast worried looks at one another, until they realize Kaneshiro still stares at them.

They scatter in a half-dozen directions.

He will join the hunt in a few moments, but for now, in the silence of the parking garage, he lets himself think.

_Could Sugimura be so crazy that he only_ thought _he took the girl?_ The kid had seemed almost manic when he arrived, despite his wannabe tough-guy words. _Did he imagine the whole thing? Is his brain so full of holes that he thinks he took her, when he really didn't?_  
Kaneshiro's short, stilted laugh rebounds off the concrete walls.

_Am I that fucking lucky?_

He doesn't fear the Sugimuras.

He doesn't fear the Okumuras.

But there's a difference between fear and stupidity. Antagonizing either would wreak havoc on his plans. Antagonizing both would be even worse. _Do I have enough clout to stand up to both, if they bring their respective groups into play?_

He recalls what Toko had said to him.

Liabilities.

Kaneshiro is willing to gamble big and risk a lot, but only at his own table. Getting yanked into this situation between the Sugimuras and the Okumuras was lunacy.

_Not to mention, Sae Niijima could become involved_. Which meant the SIU could as well.

_If she's here, I need to find her and get rid of her._

He wonders if it wouldn't be a smart move to rid himself of Rin Sugimura as well. Kaneshiro doesn't know if the Sugimuras are part of this thing, and therefore privy to the knowledge of mental shutdowns. If he requests a shutdown on the son of someone involved, it could have serious repercussions down the line.

But Rin Sugimura was tearing up Shibuya in his search for Haru Okumura. He was losing what tentative grip he had on reality by the second. _Not_ taking care of him could have even bigger consequences.

"Fuck this," he says to no one.

He turns and heads back into his compound. A few minutes later, he finds one of the men from the garage, searching through the lower rooms.

"Anything?"

"No, Boss," he says, with a shake of his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Kaneshiro spits in response. "Find her."

He heads upstairs. The place is big, but not that big. He has enough people to cover all the exits. If she was inside, she wouldn't be able to slip past anyone.

One of the kids he'd poached from Shujin stands near one of the backdoors. "You," Kaneshiro growls. The kid jumps, and stands rigid.

"Y-Yes, Boss?"

Kaneshiro delves his brain for the kid's name. "Sakoda, right? Seen anyone pass through her? A girl?"

The kid swallows. "A girl, Boss?"

"Yeah, kid. A girl. She wouldn't look like one of the others. She'd look more put together." _Wait, Haru Okumura goes to Shujin_. "Anyone you recognize?"

"R-recognize?"

"Kid, I swear, a yes or no answer better come out of your mouth in the next two seconds or I'll-"

"No!" The kid shouts. "No, Boss. I haven't. Sorry."

"Keep your eyes open," Kaneshiro replies, and turns to head deeper inside.

He walks the length of his compound. Checks in with Nanashi and Muzaki. Checks in with the others. Nothing.

Soon enough, he finds himself in his lounge, arms thrown across the back of the couch, a scowl on his face.

_What the fuck is going on?_

 #

Makoto and the other kid - Akira, that was his name - continue to have their little whispered sidebar. It's nothing to Kagawa, really. Whatever secret they want to keep, they can.

_He doesn't seem the type Mini-Makoto would go for_ , he thinks, then feels a pang of guilt. He has no real idea what kind of guy she would go for.

Akihiko had made him promise. _"If things go sideways with these bastards, and something happens to me, you've gotta look in on Makoto and Sae, yeah? Sea, especially."_

Only, he's hardly kept in touch. And 'hardly' was pushing it. He'd had his own family to watch out for, his own problems he needed to fix.

_Fine job I did there_ , he thinks.

Makoto looks like she wants to cry, but is refusing to. He doesn't want her to worry, which is why he's tried to talk her down. Make her see reason.

Problem is, Kagawa doesn't buy it himself.

If those messages Sugimura left Okumura were as bad as Makoto says, then the guy might be so far gone as to do something stupid. Really stupid.

Kagawa brings his phone back up to his ear, and calls the station. "It's me," he says, when his friend picks up. "Do me a favor. I need some information. Rin Sugimura. Yeah, I'll wait."

He stands and watches as Akira continues to send texts, giving orders to his other friends about where to look. It's a good plan, but one Kagawa fears won't resolve anything.

His friend returns with plate numbers. "Okay," Kagawa says. "Do me another favor. Why? Where have you got to be? Yeah, yeah. Look, spread those plate numbers around and tell everyone to keep an eye out for the car. If anyone sees it, I want them to let me know where it is and where it's going. Right. Thanks."

He hangs up.

Akira slides his phone back into his pocket.

Kagawa frowns.

_Where are you, Haru Okumura?_

#

The spotlight swivels towards her, and Haru ducks back behind the sandbags. Hidden, she takes the moment to seize back her breath, and reaches to pull her phone from her pocket.

Then, she hears the barking.

The dogs, those twisted black and masked things, tear from the nearest building and towards her. Haru swallows a sob and sprints away.

Fortress.

That had been the final keyword.

Sugimura thought of his car as a Fortress.

His Palace was a great, massive complex bordered with barbed wire fences, troop barracks, helicopter pads, command centers and guard towers, all shoved together on a platform that bumpily rolls its way through a thick mist.

At the height of her pursuit, Haru had considered scaling the fence and jumping off - regardless of the sharp wire at the top - but the black fog beneath the rolling fortress summed up the image of twisting tendrils, and she had kept on.

She hadn't been given a chance to use her phone to escape. Always, those shadows tailed her, just seconds away from laying their hands on her.

Truth was, she didn't know what to do. Escape seemed like the most obvious choice, but if she did that, she would be back in Sugimura's car. Had he left the garage yet? She had no idea how much time had passed in the real world. And what if he had left? What if he left and they were speeding along a highway, or stuck in traffic? What if she left Sugimura's Palace, and found herself sitting next to Sugimura himself? Not only would he punish her, but the secret of the Metaverse would be out.

The spotlight bathes her and alarms ring. More Shadows leak from the closest, half-circle shaped barracks. They are dressed in army fatigues and carry rifles slung across their shoulders.

"Halt," they scream at her.

She does not.

A shot rings out, and Haru feels something whizz by her ear.

"What're you doing?" She hears from behind. "She belongs to the Commander!"

Haru hurries down a dark alley between two buildings, sprinting for her life. _They're shooting at me! They're really shooting at me!_ What would happen if she got hit here? Would it behave the same way as a gunshot wound? If she died here, what happened to her body? Would it never be found? Her father, Makoto, Akira and the others. They'd never know.

"I can't stay here," she heaves, and stops before she exists the alley. "I've got to get out of here." She rips her phone from her pocket, and pulls up the app.

Another shot rings out, and Haru's hands snap back. There is the sound of shattering plastic, and Haru lowers her gaze to the ground.

Her phone lies in a few pulverized pieces on the gravel.

"No," she whispers.

Two Shadows muscle their way into the alley.

"I told you not to shoot," one growls.

"It's fine," the other replies. "I'm a top marksman!"

Before she can even think to move, they seize her, and drag her from the ruined remains of her only chance at escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for all your well wishes!
> 
> Things are still a bit up in the air, but that shouldn't affect things here too much.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	77. Love

"We should head over there," Makoto declares.

"Over where?" Akira asks.

"Sugimura's," she replies, and whips out her phone. "It can't be that hard to figure out where he lives."

Akira tries to find a nicer way to say what he wants, but can't. "That's not a good idea."

She shoots him a glare. "We go over there, and we tell him to give her back!"

Akira shakes his head. "Think, Makoto. You know that won't work. What if he has her stashed somewhere else? Plus, if he knows we're onto him, he might do something worse."

Makoto deflates at this, but perks up a moment later. "Then we go to her father. The Okumuras would be very interested to know that their daughter has been kidnapped."

"But we don't have any evidence of that. Plus, hasn't she been away from home, for like, days now?"

Makoto spits out a, "What'd you-"

Akira stops her by taking her by the shoulders. "You're freaking out, Makoto. I get it. I'm scared too. But we need to think. Haru said her father didn't care about her. Going to him could backfire in ten different ways."

Makoto shrinks once more. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

Akira feels a pang in his chest. He doesn't know.

He has no idea how to find Haru, or Sugimura. He has no idea how to get Haru out of the situation. No idea how to get into the guy's Palace. Nothing.

If Sugimura really took Haru, and Akira has no reason to believe otherwise, he doesn't know what he can do.

Makoto scowls. "We should get out there. Get looking! Try to find-"

"Ann's at Rafflesia," Akira reminds her. "And we sent Ryuji and Morgana to Shujin, even though it's Sunday, and Yusuke is making the rounds at the little cafes and restaurants you mentioned she might head to." He frowns. "I think, for now, waiting here might be the best idea."

They stand outside Makoto's apartment. Officer Kagawa is just inside the turnstile, speaking on his phone.

Despite the man's outward calm, Akira can see he looks worried.

_The question,_ he thinks _, is if he'll actually help us._

If the Sugimuras are really that influential, this cop might decide it's in his best interests not to get involved.

As if summoned, Officer Kagawa hangs up his phone, and steps out of the building, a halting smile on his face. "Alright, here's the deal," he says. "I put in a call to the station. It's nothing official, as it can't be, yet. But I've got a few plainclothes heading over to the Sugimura household, just to do a pass by." He nods at Makoto. "And, I've spread the word to keep an eye out for his car. We've got his plates and a description. Shouldn't be too hard to find, given you told me the car is a giant black limousine."

Makoto bobs her head. "Haru said he hardly leaves his house without it."

"Then it's a safe bet that if we find the car, we'll find him. The second someone sees it, I'll be the first to know. Then, I'll head over and scope it out."

"'Scope it out?'" Akira asks.

Kagawa nods. "We need to be careful with this. I know you're worried about your friend, but this isn't the time to go making wild accusations without any proof. First things first. Find Sugimura and determined in Okumura is with him."

Akira's mind races. Makoto opens her mouth to say more, but Akira takes ahold of her arm. "I think we should leave him to this, Makoto."

Makoto's head turns so fast, Akira thinks he heard a muffled crack. "You _do?_ "

Akira glances towards the cop and gives him a small, 'Give us a second, please,' look. Then, he turns Makoto away from him, and walks her a few steps back. "Turn off your phone," he whispers.

"Huh?" She asks. "Why?"

Akira lets go of her arm, and slides his hand into the pocket of his bag, withdrawing a small item as nonchalantly as he can. "Just do it," he replies. "Trust me."

Makoto doesn't move for a moment, then holds her phone's power button down until the screen goes black.

Akira turns and walks back to Officer Kagawa. As he gets closer, he extends a hand, and makes sure to keep his other in his pocket. "Thank you for helping us, Officer Kagawa," he says. "All we want is to make sure our friend is safe."

The cop gives him a skeptical look, then extends his own hand. "Sure. No problem." They shake.

Akira lets him go and steps back.

Kagawa looks past him to Makoto. "I'll keep you up to date, alright?" He pulls his phone from his own pocket and wiggles it in the air. "You know my number, yeah?"

"I do," Makoto replies.

"Wait for my call." He looks at Akira. "Good to meet you, Kurusu. Watch her back."

Akira nods. "I will."

The big man turns and heads off down the street at a steady pace.

Makoto walks up to Akira's side. "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

Akira pulls out his own phone, and from his other pocket, removes the smaller device.

"What is that?" Makoto asks.

"Morgana calls it a hack-track," Akira says. "It's come in handy a few times. My friend gave it to me. It captures and mirrors the GPS of the closest phone when I press this little button here," and he shows her. "It's how we were able to track Yusuke's phone when you guys kidnapped Morgana."

"That wasn't a... never mind," Makoto replies. Her eyes widen. "Wait, did you just illegally hack a police officer's phone?"

Akira frowns at her. "I'm a criminal, remember? Besides, he's looking for Sugimura. If we follow him, we'll find that bastard." Akira hesitates before saying the last part. "And hopefully, Haru too."

#

The toes of her shoes drag and skip along the blacktop. The shadows hold her aloft, their thick, heavy hands gripping one arm each.

_I can't get out_ , she thinks. _I can't get out_.

Dimly, she is aware of her surroundings. The hodgepodge of buildings has given way to a large, flat area marked with various symbols in white paint. Supply trucks and tanks are lined up just a short distance to her right, and she can hear the rhythmic beat of helicopter blades from somewhere, though she hasn't the strength to look up.

There are more shadows here. They stand at attention, rigid, rifles in hand, black spaces staring out of the holes within their blue masks.

In the back of her mind, Haru begins to hear music. It is the faint, upbeat, anonymous marching music one always equates with the military. A few moments pass, and Haru realizes the noise isn't in her head.

She grinds her mind back reality. There is a single, tall tower in the center of the wide-open space. Behind it, she can see an imposing building stretching four stories into the sky, rimmed by dozens of searchlights and manned by what she assumes are snipers.

The tower, however, is what draws her attention.

That is where the music comes from. A set of black speakers are attached to the roof, pointed upward, blaring the music into the sky. She can see them vibrate, ever so slightly, as the entire Palace continues its ceaseless progression through the mist outside.

The shadows halt, and drop her to the ground. She lands in a heap, and raises her gaze with enough time to see a solitary figure making its way down the steps.

This one wears a military dress of forest green. Medals are pinned on its chest, but they appear to sway and flux as the light hits them. A pistol belt is strapped along its waist. Black boots stomp down the metallic steps, and echo out onto the blacktop.

The music stops.

The figure approaches her and comes to a halt right before her.

Haru stares up into the grinning, golden eyed face of Sugimura.

"Hello, Haru," he says.

#

Sugimura stares down at the ivory tablecloth. His face aches from where Kaneshiro struck him. He tries to think, but his mind is thick with fog.

_Where did she go?_

He'd taken Haru. She'd been unconscious in his car. His driver knew better than to ask questions, isolated as he was before the partition. They'd driven to Kaneshiro's compound. He'd gotten out of the car. Had his little exchange with the man.

And then...

_Where did she go?_

Kaneshiro's man had opened the door, and found his car empty.

Maybe he'd left the door open?

But there's no way she could've snuck away. Not with all those people in the garage.

There was no explanation. There was really no explanation.

"Sir?" Asks the waiter. "May I take your order now?"

Sugimura waves him away, without bothering to look up.

"Very good, sir," the man says, and Sugimura hears him walk away.

He's a regular here, but it's not a place he generally uses to think. He has no idea where else to go.

_If Father finds out about this, it'll be bad_.

How could he explain this?

He frowns.

Did he _need_ to explain this?

If Haru wasn't in his car, then there was no problem, right?

"May I take your order, sir?"

Sugimura looks up, ready to shout down the man, but sees that the waiter isn't speaking to him, but a portly man at the table next to him.

"Not right now," the big man replies. "In a few minutes, maybe."

"Very good, sir." The waiter moves away.

Sugimura notes how poorly dressed the man is, and spares a thought for the decreasing standards of the place, then turns his mind back to the problem at hand.

He lowers his gaze back to the table, then feels eyes on him. He glances up, and sees the big man at the table staring at him.

"Something wrong?" Sugimura asks.

The big man chuckles, and shrugs, then points at his own face. "Your eye," he mouths, without saying anything aloud.

Sugimura scowls. He knows he must look a sight, his face newly bruised. "Mind your business," he spits.

The man lifts his hands and pats the air, placating, and returns to his menu.

#

"That's him."

Akira follows her gaze, past the beefy shoulders of Kagawa, to the slim, sharp dressed man at the table next to him. "That's Rin Sugimura?"

Makoto nods. "I don't see Haru."

The two crouch outside the restaurant's front window, having followed Officer Kagawa at a good distance. When he had gone inside, Akira's stomach had dropped, and he feared the cop had decided now was a good time to have lunch.

"We should go in there," Makoto says, and starts to stand.

Akira puts a hand on her shoulder and lowers her back into position. "Again, bad idea. You trust Officer Kagawa, right? Let him do what he needs to do." He doesn’t say, Whatever that is. He narrows his eyes, squinting through the dark glass. "Hey, doesn't he look injured?"

"Officer Kagawa?" Makoto asks.

"No, Sugimura. Look at his face." He taps his own cheek to demonstrate. "Looks like he's got a bruise or something."

A baleful smile cuts across Makoto's mouth. "I bet Haru gave that to him."

“Then where is she?"

They back away from the window, and head around the corner to the parking lot where Sugimura's car is parked. Makoto had spotted it when they arrived. The driver, a tall man with a cap and suit on, stands smoking a cigarette against the hood, oblivious to what looks like everything.

"Do you think she's in there?" He asks.

Makoto shakes her head. "If she was, that driver wouldn't just casually be sitting there. And Sugimura probably wouldn't be hanging out at a restaurant." She frowns. "But I honestly don’t know.”

They duck back around the corner, and hear a, "Yo!"

Ryuji, Yusuke, Ann and Morgana jog up to them. Ann doubles over and groans out, "Got your... message... did you find...Haru?"

After hacking Kagawa’s phone, Akira had called everyone on the burner and instructed them to gather. He was starting to think he'd need the entire group for this.

"We don't know," Akira says. He nods back towards the restaurant. "Officer Kagawa is in there, scoping him out." He sticks his thumb towards the parking lot. "His car is over there though."

Yusuke and Morgana peer around the corner. "That's the Palace?" Morgana asks. "A car?" He looks up at Makoto, when she doesn't reply, and groans. "Can someone translate, please?"

"Mona would like to know if that is, indeed, the Palace?" Yusuke asks for him.

Makoto nods. "Haru's keyword hit."

Ryuji pulls out his phone and says, "Sugimura."

"Match Found."

"Car."

“Match Found."

He nods. "Guess that settles it."

"We can worry about the Palace later," Ann says. "Right now, we should try and find Haru."

"Yeah," Morgana says. "But how are we supposed to do that? We've got no idea where she is."

"True," Yusuke says. "Seeing as how it was only a short distance between Niijima's apartment and the cafe, it is as if Okumura just disappeared."

Akira feels his eyes widen. _Oh no_. He hears Ryuji groan.

The two turn to one another, both sharing the same look. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, bro?" Ryuji asks.

Akira nods. "I think I am."

"What?" Makoto asks.

Akira steals another glance around the corner. "If Haru was kidnapped by Sugimura, then she'd need to get out his car as fast as possible." _It makes sense. We told her how all this worked. And Makoto hasn’t been able to reach her._ "So, if she had her phone, and knew two of Sugimura's three keywords, then-"

Ryuji finishes. "Then she might've guessed the third. Which means she's in that bastard's Palace. Right now."

Akira knows that might not be the case. Perhaps Haru just got cold feet about her meeting with Kagawa and ran off somewhere. Perhaps she was at her actual home, or someplace they didn't know about.

But Akira can't help shake the feeling in his gut. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he becomes.

The Thieves and Makoto are silent. Then, Ann speaks. "If that's true, if that's even close to true, we need to check it out."

Ryuji nods and says into his phone. "Garage."

"No Match Found."

"What're you doing?" Makoto asks.

"Guessing his keyword," Ryuji says. "If it works, it'll say ‘Match Found’ again. Uh, racetrack."

"No Match Found."

"What happens after that?" She asks. "You all can just go in?"

"We'll have to get a little closer," Akira tells her. "But yeah, that's the gist."

"Don't you have weapons?" She asks. "Supplies?"

"Yeah, the Metaverse kind of takes care of weapons," Ann replies.

"As to supplies," Akira says, and pats his bag. "I always keep some handy."

"So you're all ready to go, right now?" Makoto asks.

Akira nods.

"Then I'm coming too."

Ryuji pauses, mid-guess.

Everyone turns and stares at her.

"No you are not," Akira tells her. "No way."

"You don't have a Persona," Yusuke tells her.

"I don't care," Makoto says. "Haru's my friend, and this is my fault. I have to help make it right."

Akira glances at his friends and then takes Makoto by the arm and leads her away from them.

Ryuji goes back to guessing.

"You can't convince me otherwise."

"Makoto, like I said before, you don't know what it's like in there."

"I'm trained in self-defense. Aikido, Karate, a bunch of other things too. I can handle myself."

"Makoto, that's not-"

"Akira, please. I know it's asking a lot. But Haru needs me. She needs all of us. So, I'm coming."

Akira stares at her. He thinks about it.

He almost gives in.

Then, he says, "No fucking way."

Makoto's eyes widen. "Are you-"

"Makoto, _stop_ ," Akira states. Makoto's mouth snaps shut. "I know you want to save Haru. I know you care. We all do. But they're right. You don't have a Persona. You don't know how things work over there. We're not even sure what the Palace _is_. Over there, you're a liability. We can't search for and save Haru if we're too busy making sure you're safe. I won't do it, Makoto. I'm sorry, but you're not coming."

Makoto's hands ball into fists. She shuts her eyes and her face scrunches up.

_Oh crap_ , Akira thinks. _She's either gonna hit me or start crying_. _Oh God, what if it's both?_

Makoto sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. "Damn it. You're right." Slowly, she releases her fists. "You're absolutely right. If I don't... if I'm not like you all, I can't do much over there."

Akira thinks about putting a hand on her shoulder, then decides that might be too much. "It's not like you can't help us from over here."

"What'd you mean?" She asks.

He jerks his head back towards the parking lot. "It's a car, Makoto. If that thing starts driving while we're still inside, we might pop out in the middle of a street or something. If it comes to that, you may have to find a way to distract Sugimura until we can come back out."

Makoto crosses her arms, and looks past Akira's shoulder. "That's if you manage to even get inside." Akira follows her gaze. The other Phantom Thieves are still guessing keywords, and judging by their faces, aren't having much luck.

_We really need a better system for this._

"Is this seriously," Makoto asks, "how you figured out the previous keywords?"

Akira clears his throat. "Well, when I guessed Madarame's, I thought I was being pretty clever."

"What was his?"

"A factory," Akira tells her. He doesn't go into more detail. Instead, he pulls up the app on his own phone and begins to sound off as well.

"He's egotistical," Makoto says, after a time. Akira turns his gaze back to her. "He thinks he's insulated from the world. That he has protections. If he truly believes that, then maybe he thinks his Palace is the kind of place that can't be assaulted." She reaches down, takes Akira's phone from his hand and says, "Fortress."

"Match Found."

#

"You're not hurt, are you?" Sugimura asks. Haru can only stare. His eyes snap to the two Shadows that brought her. "What did you do?"

"N-Nothing," the first one bellows, as the other one points an accusing finger and shouts, "He shot at her! I told him not to, but he did it anyway!"

Sugimura sighs and shakes his head, then looks back at Haru. "You're alright, aren't you, darling?"

Haru finds herself swallowing. Sugimura stares down at her with something in his gaze, something she doesn't recognize.

_Kindness?_

Shadow Sugimura tuts and kneels next to her, his eyes scanning her summer clothes. "They're not ripped. You don't look like you've been hurt." He stands and regards the two soldiers. "Get out of here."

They snap their heels together and salute. "Yes, sir!" Both turn and bolt away. The remaining platoon of Shadows stays at attention.

Sugimura folds his hands behind his back and watches them scurry away. "I suppose it's better this way. You gave me quite the scare, Haru. But now you're here. Everything is better now." He smiles at her and holds out his hand.

Haru does not take it. "Wh-why are you acting this way?" She manages. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" Sugimura blinks, as if confused. "Because I love you, Haru."

Haru considers herself a grounded person, despite her wealth, but even she has had the fantasies about hearing those words.

This is not how she pictured it.

"You love me?" She asks.

"Of course I do," he replies, and chuckles a bit. "Shouldn't that be obvious? We're destined to be together after all."

Haru knows her mouth hangs open, but she can't bring herself to close it.

Sugimura shrugs. "Your father. My father. They put it all together. But so what? I still feel love for you."

The world comes crashing back into Haru. "You... you took me to a yakuza gang! You wanted to drug me up! To turn me obedient! You call that love?"

Sugimura purses his lips. "Well... yeah, of course it is."

Haru feels like she's been slapped.

"I don't want to do those things to you, Haru. But I have to. Because you won't listen. You won't obey. You're willful." He shrugs, again. The gesture feels very out of place with his military uniform. "You need to learn to respect me. To be the right kind of wife. That's why I took you to Kaneshiro. If you had just done what I'd told you to do, that wouldn't have been necessary."

"You were hurting me," she spits back at him. "You were threatening me!"

"Sometimes I find it difficult to articulate my feelings," Sugimura replies. "You can't blame me for that. Besides, you're the one who keeps making things difficult. Your father wants this. My father wants this. I want this. I think you want this too. If you'd just do what I tell you to do, life could be very easy for you. You'll be the wife of a powerful man."

"I don't..." Haru starts, then swallows. "I don't want that."

Sugimura spreads his hands, then drops them back to his sides. "That's not really your decision, is it? Your father made this call. If you disobey me, it's like you're betraying him. Would you really do that to him? Would you really be so selfish?"

_Selfish?_

He turns his back to her. "Maybe you don't know any better. Maybe you weren't properly raised." He adjusts his uniform. "I supposed that will be my burden to correct."

_Maybe he's right,_ Haru thinks. Against the combined weight of her father's wishes, and those of the Sugimura family, what hope did she have? For so long she tried to keep herself away from this, to hide in the shadows, among her friends. But to what end? Here she was, back in Sugimura's clutches. The whole thing rank of inevitability. To go against father, against Sugimura, against everything? Wasn't that a true betrayal?

Who was she, after all, to defy fate?

It would be easier to just give in. To just accept it.

Besides, Sugimura liked them young. After a few years, he'd probably tire of her and have a string of affairs with younger women. He'd leave her alone.

It would be easier to just smile and accept it all.

It really would.

But a voice in her head asks, _So what?_

Something in her chest, shifts.

Sugimura continues to speak, his voice a hollow drone.

Haru isn't listening anymore. She isn't even looking at him. Instead, she is focused on the doppelganger of herself that kneels alongside her, wreathed in blue fire. Haru's eyes meet her double's golden copies.

This other Haru opens her mouth. “Shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know what's coming!
> 
> That being said, there might be a slight delay on Monday's chapter. The reason being that I wrapped up my finalized edits for it yesterday, and then accidentally deleted the whole thing. Sucks, right?
> 
> So, I'll have to reconstruct everything and re-edit it. I can probably get it done by Monday, I hope I can, but if I can't, then it'll be delayed until Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest.
> 
> Sorry, folks.
> 
> Also, another aside. I had something planned for Makoto Niijima Week, but then that situation with my family happened and I had to put it on the back burner. So, I don't know if I'll actually get to it. I'd like to, but with this delay, it's looking less and less likely. Maybe someday, because I do like the idea.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Thank you for commenting and talking and leaving Kudos or reviews or Favs. I always appreciate them!
> 
> See you soon!


	78. Sometimes a Lion

_Pain_.

It erupts in her skull like fireworks.

Already on her knees, Haru clasps her hands to her head, fingers digging against her temples. She doubles over, collapses, and her forehead hits the concrete. A groan drips from her lips.

"Haru?" Sugimura asks.

The sensation pulses through her. She squeezes her eyes shut. Her jaw clenches.

She feels a warm hand rest on her scalp.

"Don't avert your gaze," her doppelganger whispers. Haru inches her eyes open, and sees the blacktop beneath her. "I know this isn't what you want, which is to say, you know this isn't what you want."

Someone runs a knife down the center of her mind. She chokes out a scream.

Sugimura kneels alongside her. "Haru, what's wrong?"

Her double's words hack through her brain like an axe. "All your life, you've played within the rules set out for you. Your family decided your future. This _thing_ wants to decide your present. Even your past isn't your own."

Sugimura puts a hand on her back, and calls for the Shadows around them to, "Do something!" They only stare at one another, confused.

Haru drags one leg up to her chest.

"And for all this, they've the audacity to claim you've betrayed them?"

Haru shoves her other leg beneath her, and pushes herself up to her knees, fingers still wrapped around her head.

To her left, Sugimura stares at her, face a caricature of concern. He moves his mouth, but his words are dull, faraway thuds.

To her right, this golden-eyed Haru smiles at her. "So what, then? If that's what they wish to call it, so be it. If you must betray them to reclaim yourself, then choose betrayal, and do it with pride."

Sugimura moves around until he crouches before her, and sets his hand on her cheek.

"But at the least," her doppelganger says, as she fades away into the air. "You must choose."

"Haru," Sugimura cries. "Haru, are you-"

"Sugimura-kun," Haru whispers. She lowers her hands from her head, and rests one against the clammy thing on her cheek.

He beams. "Are you alright, Haru? I thought-"

"Sugimura," Haru repeats. She gently wraps a fist around his pinky and ring fingers, and peels his hand from her face. "Rin."

"Yes?"

"Get your hands," she growls, " _off me!_ " She yanks down, and the crack that echoes out from Sugimura's hand as his fingers split is ever so satisfying.

Sugimura throws back his head, screams, shakes his injured hand free, clutches it to his chest, and backpedals away from her.

Haru feels something tighten across her face, snug and velvet.

"Very good!" The voice cackles. "With your choice comes our contract. I AM THOU. THOU ART I. Your future is your own. Now go forth, and show what happens to those who would seek to steer it!"

Sugimura glares down at her. "You fucking bitch! I'll-"

"Oh, Rin," Haru spits, as she takes hold of the edge of her mask. "Do shut up." She rips it free with a scream.

Behind her, a pillar of blue fire erupts into the air.

#

Joker steals another peek over the sandbags. The patrolling Shadows move off down the path. He ducks back and returns to the Thieves.

Mona, Panther and Skull huddle around a crude map, drawn in the dirt. It represents what they know of the Palace so far. _Which_ , Akira thinks, i _s very little_.

"They gone?" Skull asks.

Joker slides his knife back into his belt. "They are." He kneels next to Mona. "Find anything?"

The cat shakes his head, a frown on his face. "Recon's a no go. This place is like a maze and too much of it looks the same. I can't tell where they took Haru. Heck, I can't even tell if she's here."

Panther curls her whip around her forearm. "Then it's back to Plan B, right? Find a Shadow, and make them talk."

"We need to be careful," Joker replies. "You saw those weird, dog-like Shadows earlier. If they catch us, or even smell us, they'll probably alert the whole place."

Skull sighs and taps his foot. "Yeah, but can we afford to be careful, bro? Time's not on our side, here."

_He's not wrong_ , Joker thinks. Before they'd entered the Palace, Joker realized someone needed to stay behind - with Makoto - to monitor the situation in the real world. Yusuke had volunteered.

If Sugimura headed for his car, and they weren't able to distract him, Yusuke was to jump into the Palace, and alert the other Thieves.

_And after that?_

Joker doesn't have a plan for that. Without some way of knowing where the car is, they can't exit the Palace with any kind of certainty.

Getting _into_ the Palace had been easy. The car sat in the middle of a parking lot. All they'd had to do was keep their heads down as they snuck up to it. The driver hadn't even glanced in their direction as they snuck up to towards the trunk.

Although, Joker hadn't expected the 'fortress' to be quite so literal. In Madarame and Kamoshida's Palaces, the rest of Tokyo had existed as a hollow, empty world on the outskirts. Here, nothing seemed to exist outside the Palace's perimeter. Just black, tendril-like smoke.

"Alright," he says. "It's Panther's plan then. Find a Shadow. Make them talk."

"And if it turns out Haru's not here?" Mona asks.

"Then we return to the real world and figure something else out," he tells them. "Either way, we're finding Haru."

Panther sighs and shakes her head. "Poor Haru. She must be so scared right now. All alone and-"

_BOOM_.

The Thieves turn their eyes skyward. A column of blue flame reaches up into the red clouds. A moment later, alarms begin to sound.

"Uh,” Skull says. "This is just a guess. But maybe we should head that way."

 #

It wears a black and pink Rococo style dress, with red striped puffs on the sleeves. Its bottom is adorned in golden trim, with a lip curved in the center. It reminds Haru of a smile.

Which is what she does.

With one hand, the figure holds a thin, light red mask with golden eyes up to where its face should be. In the other it flourishes a sunlit fan.

Haru feels a hat materialize on he head. She reaches up and removes it, and finds it to be a dark purple cavalier's, with a feather plume tucked into the band. Her clothes have shifted into a long-sleeved pink blouse. She brings a hand to her neck and finds a gem pin holding the jabot shut. A black corset hugs her chest, and bloomers do the same with her thighs. Sable gloves and pantyhose hide her hands and legs.

Then, of course, there is the battle-axe. A long, thick, monstrous thing. Haru hardly noticed it, given everything else going on. But then she looks, and there it is, in hand, blade above her head. She rotates her forearm and the axe head slashes down into the concrete at her feet.

"Oh my," she says.

"Wh-what the hell is this?" Sugimura asks. He stands surrounded by his solders, who seem uncertain on what to do.

"I think," Haru says. "It would be best if you leave now."

His voice cracks as he screams. "You're giving _me_ , orders? Are you that stupid? This is my place!" He thumps his chest with his uninjured fist. "Mine! Soldiers!" The Shadows stiffen, and raise their rifles. "Take her back into custody. If she doesn't want to listen to reason, I'll just force her into obedience!"

The soldiers begin to advance.

"That's not a good idea," Haru replies.

Sugimura cackles. "Why not?" He glares up at her Persona. "Even with that _thing_ , you're still outnumbered. I don't care if your clothes have changed. I don't care that you have a weapon now. What can you do, _Haru?_ "

She tilts her head. "This."

The dress of her Persona slides up with a mechanical whirr. From within emerges the barrel of a massive Gatling gun, aimed at the approaching Shadows.

"Oh," Sugimura says.

Haru clears her throat. "If you would, Milady?"

The barrel begins to spin.

#

"Goddamn," Skull screams as the _DATDATDATDATDATDATDAT_ starts. He leaps to the ground and throws his hands over his head.

Panther stops and hunches over. "What're you doing?" She shouts. "What is that?"

Joker slides behind a stack of pallets. The sound comes from ahead, just past the next row of buildings. The alarm still blares, but they've seen very few Shadows in the last few minutes. _Maybe that means this place doesn't have that many?_ He sighs. _Am I that lucky?_

"I've played enough video games to know," Skull replies. "That's freakin' machine gun fire!"

Panther peers down at the Uzi slung in her belt. "Oh. I thought it sounded a little familiar."

"Wait," Mona says, sliding up to where Joker squats. "A machine gun? That's not good. Very not good!"

Joker nods. "Very, _very_ not good." He springs from his hiding spot and runs towards the sound. "Let's move!"

Panther yanks Skull to his feet, and the four Thieves sprint into the shadows of the building, dart down their alleys, and emerge in a clearing of concrete, marked up with chalk. Joker sees a few motionless cranes at the far end of the space.

In the center, stands a lone figure, a battle-axe raised over her head. A Shadow cowers before her, but before it can beg for its life, the woman brings the weapon down and splits it in half.

"Dude," Skull says.

"Dude," Panther says.

"Is that..." Mona starts.

"Haru?" Joker calls.

At the sound of his voice, the figure turns to them. Joker recognizes her eyes, and the few waves of hair that peek out from beneath her new hat.

She hefts up the axe, rests its shaft on her shoulder, and treats them to a polite smile. "Hi, everyone. What took you so long?"

 #

"And that," Kitagawa says. "Is when I said, 'Do not worry, Morgana. I will not let this _cat_ out of the _bag_.'"

Makoto doesn't reply.

"Did you hear me, Makoto? I said I would not let the _cat_ out of the _bag_."

Makoto doesn't reply.

"Makoto? Do you understand? _Cat_ and _bag_ , yes?"

"I get it," Makoto blurts. "Could we focus, please?"

Kitagawa frowns and turns his attention back towards the restaurant. "I am merely trying to pass the time."

"This isn't a situation where we should _be_ passing the time," Makoto reminds him. She's not sure why Akira chose Kitagawa to stay behind with her. He's friendly enough, but seems a bit odd. She has a hard time seeing Akira and Sakamoto spending all that much time with him.

"Apologies," Kitagawa replies. He rolls his shoulders. The two hide in a small alleyway across the street from the restaurant. It affords them a good view of both the building and the parking lot. Sugimura has yet to leave, and when last Makoto snuck up to the window to peer inside, it seemed he was wrapping up a small meal. It's been nearly fifteen minutes since. She saw Officer Kagawa inside as well. "I know this situation must be very upsetting for you. I only sought to relieve some of the tension."

"My tension," Makoto says. "Will be relieved once Haru is safe."

Kitagawa makes a low _hmmm_ noise in his throat. "Then you needn't worry. If Haru is in Sugimura's Palace, the others will retrieve her."

"I hope it's that easy."

Kitagawa shakes his head. "I never said it would be easy. Palaces can be quite taxing. I merely said that they would retrieve her." Kitagawa tilts his head forward, and splays his fingers across his face, like someone trying to look mysterious. "The Phantom Thieves do not fail, Niijima-senpai."

Makoto takes in his pose and tries to stifle her laugh, but can't. It bursts from between her lips like spittle. She covers her mouth and turns away. "I'm sorry," she says. "I don't mean to laugh."

"That's alright," Kitagawa says. "That was the desired effect."

Makoto begins to see why the others hang out with him.

A few more minutes pass, and the door to the restaurant swings open. Sugimura stalks out, eyes glued to the pavement, his face composed of tight lines. The fingers on both hands move in short, rapid jerks, as if he's typing something without a keyboard. He pauses for one moment, looks back inside the restaurant as the door closes, and starts off down the block.

Towards the parking lot.

"Oh no," Makoto whispers. "He's heading to his car."

"That is very bad," Kitagawa replies.

"We need to distract him." Makoto steps out of the alley, then pauses. "Damn," she whispers, and ducks back inside. "He knows who I am. If I go out there, he'll know something is up."

"Ah," Kitagawa states, and straightens. "But he does not know me." He steps from the alley and turns towards the crosswalk.

"What're you going to do?" Makoto asks after him.

Kitagawa replies, "I will _improvise_."

Makoto watches as Kitagawa power walks to the crosswalk, and slides across the street, just in time to reach Sugimura before he steps into the parking lot.

"How exquisite," he proclaims, as he comes to a stop before the man.

Sugimura lifts his gaze and frowns at him. "What?"

"Your clothes," Kitagawa declares, and gestures at the jacket and the slacks and shoes. "They are magnificent."

"I... thank you," Sugimura replies, and tries to step around him.

"My friend, I must insist you tell me where you acquired such fine fabrics."

Sugimura glances down at one of his sleeves, then appears to take in Kitagawa's appearance. "I don't think you could afford them." He manages to say it with no malice, which only makes it worse.

Kitagawa blinks and frowns. "Friend, you misunderstand. I do not wish the clothes for myself, but to further my artistic endeavors."

_What?_ Makoto thinks.

"Huh?" Sugimura asks.

Kitagawa points to the jacket. "The juxtaposition of colors is astounding. I must capture this upon the canvas! If I cannot purchase the clothes for myself, then I beg you to model them for me."

Makoto's mouth drops open.

Sugimura takes a step back. "You want me to _model_ for you?" His gaze turns into a glare. "You some kind of pervert?"

"If it is perverted to seek enlightenment through the appreciation of aesthetic beauty," and here Kitagawa spreads his hands wide, "then I declare myself a pervert!"

"Oh my god," Makoto whispers.

A few pedestrians turn and look towards the exchange.

Sugimura just stares at Kitagawa for a time, eyes wide, mouth open. Then he shakes his head clear and narrows his eyes. "Look, you little freak. Whatever kind of proposition this is, take your disgusting fantasies somewhere else. I'm not interested, and if you don't get _out of my way,_ right now, I'll call the cops. Or I'll have my driver come over here and teach you some damn manners. Got it?"

Makoto pales. Kitagawa had barely bought them a few seconds. His 'model' bit had run its course.

Kitagawa stares at Sugimura, and Makoto watches as his face freezes.

_What're we going to do?_ Makoto wonders. At this rate, she'll have to go out there and intercept him.

But what could she say? She's not good at this kind of thing. If Akira were here, he'd know what to do. He'd have some sort of plan in place or makeshift lie ready to go.

Kitagawa lifts his leg off the ground, winds it back, and kicks Sugimura square in the balls.

Makoto gasps.

The pedestrians gasp.

Sugimura howls, grabs at his crotch, and drops to his knees.

Kitagawa turns, and sprints across the street. By the time he reaches their hiding place, Sugimura is back on his feet. "You son of a bitch," he screams, and begins to stagger his way after him. "Get back here!"

"What was _that?_ " Makoto demands, as Yusuke runs past her.

He looks over his shoulder and calls out, " _Improvisation!_ "

Makoto runs after him. "How did you think to do that?"

Kitagawa is already breathing heavily. "It seemed... very much... like something Ryuji might do."

"You okay?"

"Some...what," he replies. "I don't have much stamina." They turn out of the alley and run down the sidewalk. "You may have to carry me soon."

"Not a chance," Makoto replies. They turn another corner, and she pauses and peeks back around the corner. Sugimura emerges from the alley, turns, and runs towards them. He's breathing almost as heavily as Kitagawa. _This could actually work_.

#

Officer Kagawa watches as Rin Sugimura charges his way across the street, pursuing the boy who had kicked him in the nuts.

Funny as it was, he finds it hard to believe that a random kid would just walk up to Sugimura and assault him like that.

That's for another day, though.

Kagawa isn't worried about pursuing them. After all, Sugimura's limo still sits parked in the lot. As long as it remains there, he'll have to come back for it, eventually.

He takes another sip of water. _Still_ , he thinks. _I'd sure love to know just what the hell is going on_.

#

Akira stares at Yusuke from across the room. "You kicked him?"

Ryuji's grin is huge. "In the freakin' balls?"

Yusuke nods. "Indeed."

After finding Haru, it had been easy to escape. The Thieves had merely retraced their steps, and given the absolute turmoil the fortress was in, they were harassed by very few Shadows on their way out.

Haru had insisted on going deeper, on trying to find Sugimura's Shadow and the Treasure, but after her display with Milady, she'd been left with barely enough strength to stand.  
She lay snuggled on Akira's couch. Makoto sits next to her, an arm wrapped around her dozing friend.

Akira had heaved a huge sigh of relief, when they'd exited the Palace to find the car still in the same spot. The driver was gone, but that didn't bother him too much. He'd probably gone off to find out what happened to his boss.

"Who cares how he did it?" Ann asks. She sits at Akira's desk, Morgana curled in her lap. She scratches the cat's ear. "It worked!"

"Good move, Yusuke," Morgana puts in. "Way to join the club."

"What club?" Ryuji asks him.

"The kicked Sugimura's ass club," Morgana says.

"Technically," Yusuke says, raising a finger. "I only kicked him in the-"

"Right, well," Akira puts in. He doesn't want to dampen the mood, but he feels he should point this out. "It was quick thinking on your part, Yusuke. But next time, maybe don't do something that could be considered assault."

Yusuke blinks. "Assault?"

"Yeah," Akira replies. "Technically, what you did was assault."

"But dude," Ryuji puts in. "Mona did the same thing. Besides, it was Sugimura. It shouldn't count if it's against him."

"Morgana's a cat," Akira points out. "You can't prosecute a cat."

"I'm _not_ a cat," Morgana groans.

"And I agree," Akira continues, ignoring him. "It shouldn't matter, but it does."

Yusuke pales a bit. "I see. Rest assured, I will not do something like that again."

Akira shrugs. "There's a time and place for it, sure. Just, maybe not on a crowded street. We got lucky today. Really lucky."

Makoto nods. "Akira's right. Despite how terrifying it all was, things really worked out today."

Haru stirs and sits up. "Well," she says. "I don't entirely agree."

Everyone looks at her, but Akira thinks he knows what she's talking about, aside from the obvious. "Your phone."

Haru nods. "Since it was destroyed, the evidence of Sugimura's threats got destroyed too."

Ryuji raises his hand. "But, like, isn't that shit saved in the cloud or something? Can't you just get a new phone?"

Ann frowns. "Yeah, she could. But usually they have to pair phones to get the data transferred right away. I don't know what the process is if your old phone is destroyed. Can you even get messages back?"

"Right now," Akira says, shrugging himself away from the wall. "We should operate under the assumption that those messages are gone."

"And without them," Makoto puts in. "We can't go to Officer Kagawa."

A silence falls over the group. "Well then," Haru says. "I suppose there's only one option then."

Akira smiles. "We change Sugimura's heart."

Haru nods. "He kidnapped me. Took me to the yakuza and tried to have them shoot me full of drugs. If we _do_ report him to the police now, he may go that much further." She stops talking. When they'd returned to LeBlanc, Haru had given them a detailed run through of her less than stellar day.

Akira sighs, holds up his hands, and makes a small space between his thumb and forefinger. "He's this close to hurting her, badly. We don't have time to deliberate anymore. We need to steal his Treasure and change his heart."

"But how are we to do that?" Yusuke asks. "The Palace is a car. We were lucky today, as Niijima-senpai has said. What about going forward? How do you propose we get inside?"

Akira crosses his arms. "We'll think of something."

_We have to_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWWWWW YEAHHHHHHH
> 
> Milady's in da house!
> 
> Managed to get this rewritten for today, thankfully.
> 
> As always, thank you very much for reading!


	79. Unfixed Positions

6/13

 

The alarm sounds and Makoto's eyes snap open. She rolls onto her side with a groan and begins to say, "Good morn-" before she stops. The floor is empty. _That's right_ , she thinks. _Haru isn't here._

She lifts herself onto her elbows, reaches out, and taps off the alarm clock.

The silence continues to ring.

It had been a simple choice. Haru had been snatched by Sugimura just outside of Makoto's apartment. It was no longer safe for her, here.

Makoto pushes the covers away, and stands. She stretches her arms over her head and chokes back a yawn.

She leaves her room and finds the hallway quiet. Shuffling into the kitchen, Makoto pulls open the fridge, and removes the breakfast she'd prepared the night before, alone.

It was decided that Takamaki would keep Haru at her place, for now.

Makoto drops into her seat at the kitchen table.

She told herself that the animosity between herself and Takamaki was... well, maybe not gone, but _something_. Certainly, she didn't see red around her. Makoto respected that Takamaki had offered to protect Haru, without having to be asked. It wasn't as if the girls were friends.

Makoto digs her phone from her pocket. _I'll text Haru and see how it went_.

She begins to type, then stops.

_Oh, that's right. Her phone is gone_.

She sets her own on the table.

She begins to eat.

She chews, and asks herself, _Am I really that upset about the fact that she's staying with Takamaki?_

Her phone rings and she almost chokes.

Rattled, she answers without checking the number. "Hello?"

"Makoto?" Comes the voice.

It takes her a moment to place it. "Officer Kagawa?"

"I figured it wouldn't be too early, since you've got school and all. Any word from Haru Okumura?"

She freezes. "Um," she manages.

"You okay?" He asks. "I've called in a few more favors, and-"

"She's fine," Makoto blurts out.

Silence from the other line. Then, "Really?"

"Yes," she squeaks, and cringes at her own voice. "I found her last night. I'm sorry I didn't call but she was tired and I was tired."

_Calm down_ , she tells herself. _Calm down_.

"Where was she?"

_In her crazy fiancé’s Palace_. "She, uh, got cold feet. Just like you thought." The words spill from her in flood. _Stop talking_ , she thinks. "She didn't want to come forward. She was scared." _Stop talking!_

She continues her babble, until Kagawa asks, "Makoto, is this all true?"

_He doesn't believe you. He doesn't believe you. He doesn't believe you._

"Y-yes," she says. "Haru is fine."

"Alright," he replies. "I'm glad to hear that. But I'd encourage you to talk to her. If this guy is threatening her, she should still come forward."

Makoto shuts her eyes. _I know that_ , she wants to scream. "Okay, yes. Thank you. Officer Kagawa. Thank you for your help. All your help."

"Anytime, Mini-Makoto," he replies. The line goes dead.

The nickname is an icepick in her chest. _Why didn't I think he'd call? Why didn't I prepare? I just lied to a police officer! I just lied to Dad's ex-partner!_ She drops the phone onto the table, looks at her food, and pushes the bowl away.

She puts her head in her hands and shuts her eyes. _What am I going to do?_

The Phantom Thieves wanted to go ahead and change Sugimura's heart. Their justification was that the messages Sugimura left her were gone. But Makoto knows that isn't true. If Haru gets her data transferred onto a new phone, she could get those messages back, intact. Makoto had been so concerned with finding Haru the night before, that after they had, she hadn't even thought of it. Now, though, it seemed obvious.

_Officer Kagawa would help_ , Makoto thinks. _I know he would. He already offered!_

But was that what Haru wanted? Away from the stress and anxiety of the previous day, Makoto can see things clearer.

Haru could enter the Metaverse.

Haru could use a Persona.

_So, is Haru a Phantom Thief now?_

She lifts up her head and runs her eyes over the empty apartment. The cold food. The silent phone.

_If Haru's a Phantom Thief_ , she thinks, _Where does that leave me?_

#

The bell rings, and Akira leans forward in his seat. "So, how was it?"

Ann turns in her chair. The other students stand and start to file out of the room. "Haru? It was fine. We didn't do much talking. She seemed pretty tired and shaken up, so we just went right to bed."

Morgana pokes his head up and over the edge of the desk. "And your parents were okay with her staying over?" The cat whispers.

Ann shrugs. "They didn't seem to care. They've got a busy week coming up. Dad has to go back to the States for work. It was last minute, or something, because he's running around like a crazy person trying to get everything together."

Akira frowns. "I thought your parents traveled for work all the time?"

She nods. "They do. But usually, they get some kind of heads up. I think they said something about design flaws and a thin called, 'Scrum.'"

"'Scrum?'" Morgana asks, sounding out the word. "What's that?"

"No clue."

Akira decides to bring them back on track. "Do you think we can keep her at your place for a few days?"

"Probably. But no more than a few. Even they're going to notice if I keep having the same person staying over, night after night. When they leave, they make me swear not to have people over, and I think they'll be leaving by the end of the week."

Akira glances down at Morgana, who meets his gaze. Neither brings up the obvious.

"Okay, then," he says. "We'll think of something." _I say that, and yet..._

"Couldn't we keep her at LeBlanc?" Ann asks.

Akira sighs. "Yusuke was one thing. But a girl? I don't think Sojiro would go for that. If I try to sneak her in, and he catches us, he may just kick me out."

Ann rolls her eyes. "Do you seriously think Boss would do that to you?"

Akira opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it. He doesn't know what Boss would do. When they first met, Sojiro had seemed the typical hard ass. He'd kicked Akira out of his car, after all. But he'd taken a shine to Yusuke. Hell, he seemed to like all of Akira's friends. And, he'd let him keep 'Prince.'

But for all this, Akira wasn't sure how the older man felt about him. He was still on probation. One misstep could put him right back in the box. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head clear. _That's something to worry about for another time_. "I don't know," he tells Ann. "But I don't think we should take the chance."

Sugimura had no idea who Ann was, which meant hers was the perfect place to hide Haru. Not to mention, Ann’s mastery of fashion and concern with wardrobe meant she had a multitude of clothes to help conceal the girl, which is exactly what they did when they snuck her into Shujin that morning. Akira figured that if Haru missed too many classes, teachers and parents might get involved, and that wouldn't help their plans at all.

Once the school day was done, Ryuji and Ann were going to sneak Haru back out again.

"I agree," Morgana says. "If we plan on keeping Haru at LeBlanc, but Boss says no, then we'll have no place to stash her."

"Stash her?" Ann asks, with a frown. "She's not something we stole."

Morgana reaches up with a paw and scratches his ear. "I mean, we kind of did."

"Regardless," Akira cuts in. "You need to keep Haru for now. In the meantime, we'll try and figure out a way to steal Sugimura's Treasure."

"Did you come up with anything last night?" Ann asks.

Akira glances out the window and shakes his head. He'd had plenty of ideas, actually. But whenever he subjected any of them to the tiniest bit of scrutiny, they fell apart.

"There's too many factors," he tells her. "If we had a way of communicating between the real world and the Metaverse, we could keep tabs on Sugimura's car and know when it was safe to exit. But once we go inside, we'll have to leave blind." Finding Haru had been one thing, but to actually infiltrate the Palace and fight their way to the Treasure would require all hands on deck. No one could stay outside, like Yusuke had the day before.

"Well, whatever we do," Ann says. "We've got to do it fast. If Sugimura is that crazy, we can't afford to let this wait."

"I know," Akira replies. Down below, he sees a few students milling about outside. They sit together, eating lunch, smiling and laughing. Some play on their phones. Others flip through books. "I know."

#

The great pile of muck and slime reaches for her. Its great pit of a mouth slobbers black globs onto the concrete. Haru grips her axe and _swings_. The Shadow is sliced across its middle, and with a shuddering cry, it bursts and slaps the tracks of Mementos as a pile of gunk.

"Nice, Haru!" Mona calls, and runs up to her.

Haru sets the shaft of her weapon on the ground and puts some of her weight on it. She removes her hat with her free hand, and starts to fan herself. "This is somewhat tiring."

Panther, Skull, Fox and Mona smile at her. _I suppose I'll have to get used to thinking of them that way._

"You'll get used to it," Skull replies. He swings the large pipe around in his hand like a baseball bat. "It ain't easy, at first. But we've got your back."

"You don't have to push yourself, though," Panther tells her. "We've been doing this for a while now, so there's no reason for you to go nuts."

Haru straightens. "But I need to be ready, for when we enter Sugimura's Palace, correct? I take it that the Shadows there will be more powerful than these?"

"That's true," Fox states, and gestures to the disappearing black pile on the ground. "These are relative weaklings compared to others. But Joker instructed us not to take you deeper than the first few levels of Mementos."

Haru nods. She understands the precaution. Were Akira - or Joker - here, he could likely take them deeper, what with his Wild Card ability. _Whatever that is_. But he stayed behind to come up with a plan, and he thought it best they stick to only the easier levels for now.

"Don't worry about it," Skull says, and waves his hand through the air. "By the time we get done with Sugimura's Palace, you'll be as good at ass-kicking as any of us. Then, we'll move on to even tougher targets."

Haru blinks.

Mona expands into his car form, once more, and the Phantom Thieves put away their weapons.

"That reminds me," Panther says, as she's about to enter. "We should get you a burner phone soon."

"A burner?" Haru asks. "What's that?"

"It's like a phone, but it's not your regular phone," Skull says, as he slides behind the driver's seat.

"No," Mona says.

"No?" Skull asks.

"No, you're not driving me. Remember what happened last time?"

"I'll drive," Panther puts in.

"No!" Both Skull and Mona shout.

Fox brightens. "Then _I_ shall drive."

Haru clears her throat, and raises her hand. "Um, I can drive."

The others turn to her. Skull beams. "Works for me. Fox drives too slow, anyway."

The tall boy scoffs, and slides into the backseat. "I merely maintain the speed limit. I see no reason to behave like a hooligan behind the wheel."

"Uh-huh," Skull replies.

Haru slides into the driver seat. "You okay, Haru?" Mona asks. His voice comes through the van's radio speakers.

"Fine," Haru replies. "Just fine."

"Oh, you know what else?" Panther says, turning to her from the passenger seat. "We need to get you a code name!"

Haru turns to her. "Huh?"

"Hey, yeah," Skull says, smirking. "We can't keep calling you, Haru. If you're a Phantom Thief, you need a Phantom Thief codename."

"O-oh," she replies. Her hands tighten on the wheel. She squirms in her seat.

"You sure you're okay, Haru?" Mona asks, again.

"Yes," she says.

"How about, 'Rose?'" Fox asks.

Panther and Skull reply with long, "Ooohs."

"I like that," Panther declares. "It fits with the whole, pink thing."

"Yeah, totally," Skull replies. "It's like, she's a rose, and she's un-, uh, un... crap, what's the word?"

"Unassuming?" Fox asks.

"That's it," Skull says, with a snap of his fingers. "She's like, unassuming, but she's got thorns and shit." He frowns. "Actually, didn't you used to say that, Panther?"

"Huh?" She asks, and turns to face him. "What'd you mean?"

"Like, didn't you used to shout out, 'This beautiful rose has thorns,' or something. Like, at random?"

Her eyes widen. "I did not!"

Haru puts Mona in drive. At least, she thinks she put Mona in drive.

"I do recall that," Fox replies. "I did not understand the context, and thought it best not to bring it up."

"It's not like I'm the only one," Panther shouts, face going as red as her suit. "Skull, you keep yelling, 'Get wrecked,' and, 'Slammin',' for some reason."

"Uh, I say that shit because it fits with what I'm doing. Like, I'm taunting Shadows and stuff."

Panther scowls and turns to Fox. "And you're always talking about-"

Haru puts her foot down on the gas pedal.

Mona lurches forward, and slams into the tunnel wall.

A few seconds of silence pass, and then Haru hears Mona call out, "My face! My beautiful face!"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Panther says, holding her head, from where she banged it on the dashboard.

Haru hears a groan from the backseat. "Okay, change of plans," Skull says. "Fox drives."

"S-sorry, everyone," she calls out. "I'm very sorry."

"You okay, Fox?" Panther asks.

Fox holds his fingers into the air. "They are _unharmed_!"

"He's fine," Skull says. He puts his hand on the passenger side headrest and pulls himself forward. "Yo, you okay, Haru?"

"I'm fine," She says. "Really. I'm very sorry, everyone."

_What happened?_

She opens the door and slides out. The others exit as well, and move to rearrange themselves. Haru gets into the back.

_At the least_ , she thinks, _it got them off the topic of me_.

She remains quiet as Fox takes the wheel and backs Mona away from the wall.

Her thoughts race.

_Was_ she a Phantom Thief? She doesn't recall agreeing to be one. But didn't she have an obligation to join? She had awakened her Persona. She had her whole Thief attire. They were even discussing giving her a codename.

_What's wrong with me? Why do I feel this way?_

She had to do this, didn't she? To stop Sugimura? To stop him from hurting her?

But it wasn't just that, was it?

_Am I being selfish?_ The others - the Phantom Thieves - worked to help others, to reform society, or something. But Haru was only in this for herself. Haru only wanted to get Sugimura off her back. She didn't want to change his heart so he would realize the error of his ways. She wanted to change his heart so she'd leave her alone.

But Skull had said she would accompany them onto more difficult targets after they dealt with Sugimura. But they hadn't even asked her if she wanted to be a Phantom Thief.

Do _I want to be a Phantom Thief?_

The others continue to talk as they drive deeper into Mementos.

_I know what I don't want. But I don't know what I do want_.

For some reason, the thought terrifies her.

#

Akira hesitates outside the Student Council Room, then steels himself and knocks.

"Come in."

He opens the door and pokes his head in.

"Hey," he says.

Makoto's eyes widen. "Akira, oh. Um, hi."

"Hey," he repeats, and glances around the room. It's empty, save for her. "Can I come in?"

Makoto gestures at the chair across from her, and Akira slides inside and shuts the door behind him.

He doesn't sit. He sticks his hands in his pockets and tries to look unassuming.

"Shouldn't you be with the others?" Makoto asks.

"They're with Haru, at the moment. I've got some other things to do." He shrugs. "Did you see Haru today?"

Makoto returns her gaze to the paperwork in front of her. "We saw each other in class, but my duties kept me busy during lunch. And since she was smuggled out after school, I didn't get a chance to speak to her today."

"Right," Akira says. "Right." He heaves out a sigh and says, "Listen, I need to talk to you about something."

Makoto straightens and he sees a little bit of intrigue dance into her eyes.

"It's about Sugimura."

Makoto deflates. "Oh. What about him?"

"I think you should watch your back, for the next few days."

She meets his eyes with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Sugimura took Haru from outside _your_ apartment. Since he's got no idea where she is, he may show up again, looking for her. That could put you in danger. We already know how unhinged he is."

Makoto nods. "Yes. I considered this. Rest assured, I'm taking precautions."

"Precautions?"

"I plan to alternate my routes home over the next few days, to thoroughly inspect my apartment when I return, and to periodically check my surrounding to ensure I'm not being pursued."

Akira chuckles. He finally takes a seat. "You should be... well, one of us."

Makoto's face scrunches at this, and she doesn't say anything.

Akira runs back over his words. _Crap, probably shouldn't have said that_.

"Has she gotten a new phone yet?" Makoto asks.

"Who?"

She glares at him. "Haru, of course."

"Oh, no. I don't think so. No."

"She should." She steals a glance at the door and leans across the table, towards him. "If she gets a new phone, she can have her old data uploaded onto the new one. She can retrieve Sugimura's messages that way. We could still..." She trails off, and doesn't finish her sentence. She looks surprised at having spoken at all.

Akira frowns. "You still want her to go to the police?"

"I want her to have options."

"Yeah, the options you want her to have."

Makoto scowls. "You're doing the same thing. You don't want her to go to the police, because you want her to _want_ to change Sugimura's heart."

Akira meets her scowl with his own. "I don't want her to go to the police, because I don't think it'll work."

"Officer Kagawa offered to help. He would help. _Will_ help."

Akira feels his blood spinning behind his eyes. "And I'm telling you, I don't-" He stops. He remembers how this went last time, back in LeBlanc.

He settles back in his chair, and looks away. "Can we just not? Please?"

Makoto crosses her arms and looks away. "Maybe you should ask Haru what she wants."

Akira stares down at the table. "Yeah, maybe I should."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. For his part, Akira knows he feels too worn out to move. Even through class, he tried to come up with plans for Sugimura's Palace, but his brain feels all dried up.

Eventually, Makoto begins to look at him again. "So," she finally says. "Have you come up with anything? For the Palace, I mean."

Akira rests his elbow on the table and props his head up in his hand. "No. There's so many factors."

"Like?"

He rolls his eyes towards her. "Well, the way I see it, we've got a few problems. First we need to find a reliable way to get into and out of the Palace. Hell, we also need to figure out where the car will be. With Kamoshida and Madarame, we could just show up outside the buildings and enter, no problem. But since this is a car, we need a way to tell where it is and when it'll be unsupervised."

"That does seem like a large obstacle."

"Yeah, especially considering once we get _into_ his Palace, we'll have no way of knowing when it's safe to leave. It can get rough in the Metaverse. If we have to retreat, I'd like to know we could do so safely. We can't do it if the car is driving."

Makoto settles a hand on the table and begins to tap her fingernail against the wood. "When you left his Palace yesterday, you emerged outside of the car, yes?"

Akira nods. "Right. Which was good. We could've showed up in the backseat or something, and that... well, that would've been very bad. But-"

"But," Makoto says. "If the car is driving somewhere and you exit the Palace, you'd wind up appearing in the middle of the street. You could get hit by a car."

"And if it was a populated road, everyone would notice a bunch of teenagers just popping into existence."

Makoto nods and stares up at the ceiling, her fingernail still rhythmically tapping the wood. "So, getting into the car, and getting out of the car. Anything else?"

"Oh yeah," he says. "There's still the problem of the Calling Card."

"If you don't want people to know the Phantom Thieves targeted Sugimura-"

"And we don't," Akira cuts in.

"Then you'd need to get him the Calling Card in a way that won't attract attention."

 "Not to mention," Akira reminds her. "We need to do it in a way that ensures he won't take it to his father, or to the police. People take the Phantom Thieves seriously, now. If Sugimura got a Calling Card, he might think to throw himself at the mercy of the cops. And the cops might dig around a bit."

"And they'd find out about his betrothal to Haru," Makoto finishes. "And then they might investigate her, to see if she's got a link to the Phantom Thieves."

"They'd know she was a Shujin student. That'd be another reason to look at the school."

"And three of your targets would've had a direct link to Shujin Academy."

 Akira nods, getting into it now. "This is how it works. We go into the Palace, and we secure the route to the Treasure. Then, we leave and deliver the Calling Card. Once the person reads the Calling Card, there's a twenty-four hour window. That's when the Treasure manifests. If we don't steal the Treasure in that time, it _won't_ manifest again, and we can't change Sugimura's heart."

Makoto frowns. "Wait a second."

"What?" Akira asks.

Makoto tilts her head forward and stares down at her fingers. "Why do you need to leave the Calling Card until after you've established the infiltration route?"

Akira blinks. "Huh?"

"You just said that you secure the infiltration route first, then go back and give the target the Calling Card. Doesn't it make more sense to deliver the Calling Card first, and then..." She trails off, frowning.

"Yeah," Akira says, seeing the hurdle she's come up against. "Not if there's a twenty-four hour window. Because if we jump the gun and deliver the Card before we secure the route, then-"

"Right, right," Makoto says, nodding. "Then there's a chance you wouldn't reach the Treasure in time and the entire plan would fail." She makes a small _tsk_ noise. "Still, something feels _off_ about that. I feel like you could work around that, somehow."

Akira smiles at her. "Maybe. My plan wasn't exactly the best."

Makoto purses her lips. "What was your plan?"

"Well," Akira says. "I thought we could infiltrate Sugimura's Palace and have someone tail the car in a van. We'd have to run a few tests first, on the car, to determine how far away we'd materialize in the real world. Then, the van could keep that distance between the car _exactly_. So, when we exited the Palace, we'd pop up in the back of the van, and no one would even notice."

Makoto blinks. "Akira."

"Yes?"

"That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

"Makoto-" Akira tries.

"First of all, who would be driving this van? Do any of you have licenses? Second, wouldn't Sugimura or his driver notice that there was a van tailgating them for the entire day?"

"Makoto-" Akira tries again.

"Thirdly, there's no way you could be certain over the distance, and it's highly unlikely someone could keep the van at the same exact distance from the car for the duration of your operation. If something were to go wrong, you could end up phased into a wall or-"

"Makoto," Akira states, firmly.

"What?"

He smiles. "I was kidding."

"Oh," she says, and a small smile pops back onto her face. "Well, good. Because that plan was terrible."

"I know," he replies.

They grin at one another, but then those smiles fade, and the silence starts to stretch once more.

_Even if I was kidding_ , Akira thinks. _We still don't have a plan in place_. His gaze lingers on Makoto, and she looks away.

_No real plan at all._

#

"I confess," Toko says. "To my surprise at your request to meet."

Kaneshiro squirms in his seat. The two sit side by side on a pair of barstools at some no-name place in Ueno. It's not his territory, and he doesn't like being away from his territory.

"I want you to know," she continues, and Kaneshiro hates how at home she seems. Always that quiet, feminine confidence. Always the goddamn Matron. "That I passed on your request. It is being considered."

He won't thank her, but he nods all the same. "I need information," he says.

"On a what, or a whom?" Toko asks.

"Rin Sugimura," he whispers.

 Toko looks around. It's early enough in the day that the salary men aren't popping in for dinner and a beer, but there are still a good amount of patrons. "I'm not familiar with that name."

"He's the son of the politician."

"Oh, _that_ Sugimura. What about him?"

"I need to know, if he or his old man are part of this thing of ours."

Toko sips her drink. It's dark, like tea, but it smells terrible. She sets the glass down and frowns. "Why?"

He turns his head and scowls. He doesn't want to explain himself to her, but he needs answers more than he needs his pride right now. "He's made use of my services," he replies. "But he's becoming a liability. Deranged."

"He's a danger to your operations?"

Kaneshiro smirks at her. "What did you say last time? A problem isn't a problem until it becomes a problem. I don't want this kid to become a problem."

"But you don't want to get rid of him if it'll ruffle the wrong feathers."

"I try not to piss on my own shoes, even when I'm desperate."

"Lovely."

"So do you know anything or not?"

Toko frowns. "I'm not familiar with the Sugimuras. That doesn't mean they're _not_ part of this. Conversely, that doesn't mean they are." She takes another sip. "I'll make some inquiries. You should know soon."

Kaneshiro stares down at his hands. "The sooner, the better," he mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, Dowdz here!
> 
> Sorry about the overlong hiatus. Some things came up and I needed to resolve them. My wife and I needed to find a new apartment, and then I got sick. A few other annoying things happened, and it forced me to put this story on the back-burner.
> 
> To be honest, things are still a bit up in the air, but you've all been waiting so damn patiently and been pretty chill about this whole thing, so I wanted to update Crimson with a new chapter! I'll let you know by the end of the week whether or not I'll be going back to my regular update schedule.
> 
> Thanks so bloody much for reading Crimson! It's always a delight to see that hit counter tick upwards, and to wake up to find a review/comment in my inbox.


	80. Variables

6-14

 

"Thank you very much," the clerk proclaims, and tips his head into a bow.

Haru smiles back at him, and nods a bow as well. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

She turns and heads for the door, stopping when she realizes Ann isn't following her. The blonde girl peers - wide-eyed - at the latest model of Samsungs, set up on display along the wall. Haru steps up alongside her, clears her throat, and smiles when the girl spins towards her.

Ann blinks. "Oh, sorry. You all set?"

"I am," Haru replies. "The transfer finished just a minute ago." She reaches into the bag the clerk handed her, and pulls out her new phone. She misses the old adornments, but she figures she can spruce it up later. For now, it's nothing but typical. Sleek, black, fresh.

"Cool," Ann says, and backs away from the display. "Let's go."

"We can stay," Haru points out. "If you want to keep looking."

"Nah, that's okay," Ann says, with a shake of her head. "The last thing I need right now is _another_ distraction."

The two girls exit the store and halt beneath the shadow of its awning. Haru enters the app menu and begins to flip through it. Ann stares at the screen, from over her shoulder.

Two pages of swipes later, and there it is.

The Nav App stares up at her from the unblemished screen.

"Akira was right," Ann says, a bit of awe in her voice. "The phone doesn't matter. The person does."

"I guess this would apply to anyone," Haru says. "If your phone broke, and you got a new one, the App would appear on it as well."

"Guess so," Ann replies, then frowns. "Let's not test that, though."

They're both quiet for a while. Haru's thumb hovers over the screen, but doesn't move.

"Um," Ann finally mutters. "Are the messages there?"

Haru sighs.

Akira had called Ann the night before. He advised the girl to take Haru to get a new phone after school. That way, he had said, she'd have access to the Metaverse via her own phone, and she could retrieve Sugimura's messages with a data transfer.

"Oh," Haru had said, into Ann's phone. "But couldn't I just use one of your phones to get into the Palace?"

"Yeah," Akira had whispered, and Haru got the impression he wasn't necessarily talking to her. "But this way, you have options." He hadn't elaborated.

_Options_ , Haru thinks, as she swipes her way to her voicemail. _Do I really have them?_

She opens her voicemail and finds them, all time stamped, with the length of each proclaimed in bright blue text. "Here they are," she mutters. She lowers the phone and shoves it back into her pocket. "They're back."

Ann's frown lengthens. Then she pulls out her own and glances at it. "Hey, so we've got some time before the meet-up. Wanna, I don't know, get something to drink?"

"Couldn't we just do that at LeBlanc?" Haru asks.

"We could," Ann drawls. "But it'll be a total bro-fest there. Why don't we take some girl time, huh?"

Haru smiles and nods. "Sure. Let's."

The two soon find themselves at a small cafe on the outskirts of Harajuku, seated at a small table in the corner.

A small coffee for Haru. Something very, very sweet and probably very, very bad for her, for Ann.

"Thank you," Haru says, when the waitress leaves with their orders.

"For what?" Ann asks.

"You know." She gestures to the bag she's set on the floor. "For all of it. Taking me to get a new phone. Letting me stay at your place." She fingers the oversized hoodie she's kept on since the day began. "For lending me these clothes." She leans forward. "And for showing me how things work, over there."

Ann grins. "It's no problem. I know it must be pretty scary." She stares down at the napkin dispenser, then reaches out with a hand and starts pulling out little flakes of the paper. "Even before Shiho jumped, I was scared. Everything felt so, like, impossible to fix. And then the Thieves happened, and I didn't know what to think or do. But Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana helped me out." She smiles at Haru once more. "That's what we do. Help people."

It's Haru's turn to look away. "Do you ever have any doubts?" She asks. "About any of it? About what you're doing?"

Ann frowns at this. "Sure, I guess."

Haru looks up. She hadn't expected that.

"At the end of the day," Ann continues. "I'm well, I'm _me_. It's a lot. Sometimes I wonder about the future. About what comes next."

"But, is this what you want? Are you so certain what you're doing is the right thing?"

Ann shrugs. "I think so." She nods. "Yes. Kamoshida. Madarame. They needed to be stopped. And no one else was going to do anything about it."

"But is it what you _want?_ "

Ann crosses her arms. "Well, yeah," Ann says. "But, even if I wasn’t, so what?"

Haru blinks. "I’m sorry?"

"Just because I don't know exactly what I want, doesn't mean I'm going to stand around worrying about it." Her words grow more resolute as she speaks. “I stood around and did nothing for a long time. I _won't_ do that again. I'm not dumb. I know this isn't something we can do forever. But it's what we can do now, so that's what I'm doing."

Haru stares into this girl's eyes and finds herself humbled. _She says she isn't sure what she wants, but it seems to me that she does._

_But still..._

Haru lowers her eyes to the table. It's covered in the napkin scraps Ann has torn up.

#

**_AKIRA_ ** _: You sure you don't want to come?_

Akira sends the message and waits. His phone vibrates a moment later.

**_MAKOTO_** _: Thank you, but no_.

He stares down at the message, then slides his phone back into his pocket. He doesn't have time to press the issue. He still has nothing. Nothing concrete, anyway.

No idea how he's supposed to infiltrate Sugimura's Palace and steal his heart. When he'd woken that morning, he felt sure a plan had solidified in his mind overnight. He was completely confident of it, but when he tried to put it on paper, it deteriorated into a series of unconnected dots and notes.

_Break the car_ , he'd written.

_Separate them_ , he'd jotted down.

_Calling Card_ , he'd scrawled. He waited for the last one to yield more, but it hadn't. Makoto had mentioned the Calling Card the night before, and about how there must've been something they could do with it.

He mutters a curse beneath his breath and puts his head in his hands.

The soft sound of Morgana's paws on the steps makes him sit up. "Yusuke's here," the cat calls, and Akira pushes himself to his feet as the lanky boy ascends.

"Ah, it appears I'm early," he says, and moves to the couch.

"The others should be here soon," Morgana replies, and hops up next to him.

Yusuke unshoulders his bag as he sits, unclips it, and slides his hand inside. He withdraws a stack of papers Akira recognizes.

"The Calling Cards," Akira says, with a sigh.

"For our Mementos targets," Yusuke replies, and sets them on the table. "Prepared, per your request."

Akira nods. "Right." Until Sugimura, the Phantom Thieves had prepared to knock out several Mementos targets all at once. _That feels like so long ago_.

"Any luck on the Sugimura situation?" Yusuke asks.

"Not yet," Akira replies, and sits back down. He doesn't bother to inspect the Cards. He's sure they're fine.

"We're working on it," Morgana says.

The tone of his voice makes Akira frown. _We? What exactly have_ we _been working on, Morgana?_ He keeps this to himself. It won't do to chastise the cat for not contributing when he can't even come up with any solutions.

"I don't mean to change the topic." He nods towards the Cards. "But I would remind you that those requests from the PhanSite have been active for some time now. We need to complete those soon. Otherwise, the public may begin to lose their faith in the Phantom Thieves. Especially since we cannot publicize the Sugimura heist."

Akira waits a full ten seconds before answering. "Yeah, I know that, Yusuke."

"Alright," the boy replies. "I just thought I would mention it."

"Have you got any ideas?" Akira asks.

"Could we not lure him somewhere?"

"Lure him?"

"Yes. Trick him somehow. Make him go somewhere we will be. We could then easily enter the Palace."

"Okay," Akira says. "And what happens if we're still in there when he realizes he's been had, and he decides to drive off?"

"What if we sabotaged the car?"

"How would we do that?" Akira asks.

"Plus, even if we did," Morgana points out. "He could just call a tow truck and get picked up."

Yusuke hums. "There are certainly many variables this time."

Akira stands and begins to pace around his room. It's all he can do to stop himself from shouting. _It's not their fault_ , he thinks. _This is stumping everyone_. Then, he realizes he's wasting time consoling himself over his friends when he could be using his brain power to come up with a plan.

He grits his teeth. "Why don't we just knock the bastard out?" He growls, without thinking about it.

Morgana and Yusuke stare at him. Akira blinks.

_Wait a minute.._.

He returns to his desk, pulls out a pen, and starts to write.

#

Haru nods to Ryuji as he walks upstairs. She stands near the edge of the gathering. Yusuke is on the couch, as is Ann. Akira sits at his desk. Morgana lays in the center of the table in the middle.

Ryuji strides up next to her, throws her a smile, and crosses his arms. "So, what's the plan?"

"We don't have one yet," Akira replies, head still folded over his desk.

"Oh," Ryuji responds.

Haru looks over at Akira. He hasn't raised himself since she arrived. He scribbles furiously across the page, eyes narrow. Then, he sits back, frowns, shakes his head, and tries again.

"So, what's the point of this meeting then?" Ann asks.

"The point," Akira mumbles. "Is to come up with a plan. Or something like a plan."

Ryuji raises his hand. "I've got an idea. Sort of."

"What is it?" Yusuke asks.

"What if we blow up his car?"

Akira stops writing. He sets down his pen. He turns to his friend. "You want to blow up Sugimura's car?"

Ryuji shrugs. "Well, wouldn't blowing up his car get rid of the Palace?"

Morgana blinks from where he lays. "No, Bonehead, it wouldn't."

Ryuji scowls down at him. "Why not?"

Morgana opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "Okay, well, actually I'm not sure."

"So why don't we do that then?"

"Do you know how to blow up a car?" Akira asks.

"We can put a rag that's on fire in the gas tank. That's how they do it in movies."

"This isn't a movie," Ann says, glaring at him. "And we don’t know if that would actually work."

"And I don't believe destroying the car would resolve the situation," Yusuke says. He nods. "It seems to me, it would only make the Palace inaccessible."

"That's right," Morgana says, as if he knew it all along. "Destroying the physical world's Palace equivalent isn't the same as stealing the Treasure."

"Alright, alright," Ryuji replies, sulking. "It was just a suggestion."

"Where would we even get explosives?" Ann asks.

"It doesn't matter," Akira snaps. "Because we're _not_ doing it."

The room goes quiet. Haru looks back at him. He swivels his body back around and returns to his notebook. _Is this what it's always like?_ Haru wonders. _Is this what he was like when he was trying to throw us off his trail?_

"Sorry," Akira mumbles, a few moments later.

"It's all good," Ryuji says, and gives Haru a grin she almost buys. "Just throwing things out there."

Ann speaks up next, offering a plan to draw Sugimura away from his car somehow. Akira points out the flaws. Haru begins to run through her mind, trying to come up with something but it's nothing but white noise.

If she called, she was sure to draw him out, but what then? Akira was right. Getting Sugimura to a certain place would be easy. Keeping him there would be infinitely harder. She also doesn't relish the idea of using herself as bait. She knows the dangers of going through with this, but putting herself out there all over again?

_I bet Mako-chan could come up with something._ Despite the circumstances, the thought makes her mind drift to Makoto. They've rarely spoken since she got out of Sugimura's Palace.

She was also against using the Phantom Thieves from the start.

Haru thinks of her new phone. _I could still go to Officer Kagawa. I could still show him the messages._

Would it matter?

She wasn't willing to submit to Sugimura anymore, but that didn't mean the stars would suddenly align for her and make the problem go away.

The Phantom Thieves continue their discussion. Haru bites her lip and remains quiet.

#

Akira hefts up the sack of fertilizer, and moves it to the dolly, dropping it down with a sigh.

_I should've just cancelled the meeting._

Morgana sits on his usual spot on a high shelf, tail swaying through the air. "You okay?"

Akira bites back a retort and nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

Coming to Rafflesia for his shift had been the last thing Akira wanted to do, but he had missed too many shifts lately, and didn't want to raise any eyebrows. Haru, of course, had gone home with Ann.

If Sugimura knew about Haru's part-time job, it was possible he'd come looking for her. Akira had a story in place in case he did, but he figured his best option would be to say absolutely nothing.

Of course, what's really on Akira's mind isn't so much the lack of a plan to save Haru and change Sugimura's heart. Because he has a plan, sort of. Only, there are _a lot_ of ways it could go wrong. Wrong in the worst sense of the word. Wrong in the sense that he could be tossed in jail and never heard from again.

The thought sends a shiver through him. _But what other choice do we have?_

There's still a number of kinks to work out, but he'll keep at it. Time isn't a luxury he has, but if can get something solid by the weekend, he believes they might have a chance of pulling it off.

Maybe.

Akira exits the back storage room and finds Officer Kagawa standing just inside Rafflesia's entrance, talking to Hanasaki-san.

"Hey there," Officer Kagawa replies. He's not dressed in a suit and tie, like he'd been the other day. He looks more casual now, in jeans a and a polo shirt, stretched over his stomach.

"Akira-kun," Hanasaki says, bringing a smile to her lips. "This gentleman would like to speak with you. He asked after Haru."

"Right," Akira says, stepping up to them. He tries to keep calm.

Hanasaki nods to the policeman and steps away from the two.

Kagawa nods his head towards the hall. "Wanna take a quick walk?"

Akira shakes his head. "I think I'm good here."

Kagawa frowns. "Suit yourself. Like she said, I'm looking for Haru."

"She's not here, right now," Akira replies.

"Uh-huh," Kagawa replies. "See, the thing is, you mentioned that the two of you have the same schedule. So, I called this place yesterday and found out when you were working. Yet, she's not here. Why's that?"

Akira shrugs. "This is a part-time job. People don't show up for it all the time."

"Really?" Kagawa asks.

Akira shrugs once more. "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes I don't even show up."

"But Haru's safe, right?"

Akira nods. "Makoto found her," he replies. "She didn't want to come forward. Or so she told me."

Kagawa frowns at this. "You know, the only thing I want is for her to be safe."

Akira wants to say more, but he remembers his little breakdown in front of Goro Akechi. The last thing he needed to do was let this cop know just what he thought of their organization. "I know," he says instead. "Me too."

"The problem with being young," Officer Kagawa continues. "Is that you always think you know best. It's not until you get older that you realize what your mistakes were." He leans in closer. "I know you want to help Haru Okumura as badly as Mini-Makoto, but if you think this is something you can handle yourselves, you're wrong. Let me help."

"I'm not the person you should be asking," Akira replies.

"Well, I'd be asking Haru Okumura, if I could find her."

Akira fights off the smirk and keeps his mouth shut. _If you can't find her, how could you possibly help her, Officer?_ He looks away. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know. Like you said, I want to help her as much as I can. She's my friend."

"Right, well, if you see your _friend_ , tell her to contact me when she can. Sometimes you need help, even if you don't want it."

"Okay, sure," Akira says.

Kagawa looks him over once more, and to Akira, it feels like a rake rubbing against his skin. Then, he turns and walks off down the hall.

Akira steps back inside the storage room. "Was that-?" Morgana starts.

"Yeah," Akira replies. He checks to make sure Hanasaki-san isn't anywhere nearby, then whispers, "Remind me to keep an eye on his GPS. I don't want to get surprised by him, again."

#

Sugimura stares at the apartment building for a long time, before he admits to himself that she's either not coming out, or she's not there. "Shit," he spits, then orders his driver to take him home.

It'd been two days since he lost Haru. Two days since anyone had apparently seen her or heard from her. Granted, he hadn't managed to get confirmation if she was in Shujin, but he was willing to bet she wasn't.

He puts his head in his hands as they drive away. He thought he could just ignore the whole thing, but he's not sure he can.

Kaneshiro seemed on edge. The man had called yesterday to verify if Sugimura had found Haru. Sugimura couldn't very well lie to the man, as he probably already knew the answer.

The man had given him a simple, "I see," and hung up.

_I've got to find her_ , he thinks. _I've got to make this right_.

He's not sure what'll happen if he can't.

#

Kaneshiro's phone rings. He pushes the girl away and snatches it up. "Hello?" He says, once he answers it.

"No," the voice replies. "He's not."

The line goes dead.

Kaneshiro smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, how's it hanging? I know things have been slow on the Crimson front, and I'm sorry about that. The wife and I are moving pretty soon, so things have been somewhat hectic thanks to that. Rest assured I'm still plowing away at these chapters. Also, I know I haven't had much of a chance to get back to you guys in the comments and whatnot, but I wanted to let you know that I appreciate all your feedback and well-wishes. It sings my soul to sleep. :)
> 
> PS. 80 freakin' chapters! Can you believe it! Holy smokes. It sure is something. Thanks for reading!


	81. At the Verge

6-15

 

Haru brings the leaf of lettuce to her mouth, bites, and lowers the chopsticks down to her lunch.

Makoto takes another sip of her drink.

The afternoon chatter from the courtyard drifts up through the glass of the Student Council room. The two girls sit at the table together. They make eye contact, smile, and then look away. This happens several times.

Though silent, both endure racing thoughts that makes the soft quiet almost deafening.

"I got a new phone," Haru says, when she can't take it anymore.

Makoto smiles at her. "That's good. And the app?"

"Was there."

"Good," Makoto says. "Good."

Silence again.

Makoto stares at the meal before her. _I can't take this. Say something!_ It had been her idea to eat together. The past two days have been something of a whirlwind. Sure, they had class together, but they sat on opposite sides of the room, and couldn't whisper like so many of the other students. She'd stood and sped over to Haru the moment the bell rang, and asked her upstairs.

Only, now that they were here, Makoto couldn't decide on what to say.

_Or maybe_ , she thinks. _I'm too afraid to say anything_.

Finally, Haru sighs. "I'm sorry, Mako-chan."

Makoto blinks. "For what?"

"Things have been somewhat crazy these last few days. I haven't been able to talk to you."

Makoto shakes her head. "No, that's... that's nothing you have to apologize for. Nothing here is your fault."

"I got my phone yesterday," Haru points out. "But I didn't call."

"You're under a lot of-"

"Mako-chan," Haru states. "I'm scared."

Makoto feels the awkward silence fall away and her senses seem to kick back in. "Scared? Of Sugimura?"

"Well, yes," Haru says, and leans forward. "But not only of that. Of, well, I think, everything."

Makoto opens her mouth, but can only manage a kind of sigh.

Haru nods. "I suppose that's not very clear." She folds her hands together and lowers her gaze. "When that... other me, my Persona, spoke to me, it convinced me to not let people control my life. My father, Sugimura. And when I pulled that mask off, it hurt, but it also felt _so good_." She looks up then, and meets - what Makoto hopes is - her sympathetic gaze. "But I... I don't know how to _do_ that, Mako-chan. How do you live like that?" Makoto tries to put her thoughts together to answer, but Haru plows on. "When they took me to Mementos, to train me, it felt like they had just assumed I was part of the Phantom Thieves."

Makoto feels her eyes widen. "A-are you?"

Haru lets out a weak groan. "I don't know. Yes? Maybe? I have no idea. It just feels like they want to do one thing, and I want to do another. But I'm not even sure what my thing, is. I just want Sugimura to leave me alone. I just want my father to let me live my own life. But what if I'm just trading one pre-determined path for another? If I join the Phantom Thieves, would I have to do what the Phantom Thieves wanted? Even if I disagreed with it? It's not that I think Akira and Ryuji and the others are bad people. I just..." She trails off. "I don't know." She leans forward and puts her head in her hand. "I don't know, Mako-chan. I thought things would start to make sense. I thought I'd be free. But I don't feel free." Her face scrunches up and Makoto's heart breaks a little. "And everyone's going crazy because they're trying to figure out how to change Sugimura's heart, but because his Palace is a car, no one's sure what to do, and Akira is trying so hard to come up with a plan, but I don't know if he has one and it's driving him crazy and that's my fault too, because Sugimura is my problem and-"

"Haru," Makoto says, standing.

Haru closes her mouth, and looks up at her. She's not crying, but it's close.

Makoto moves around the table, grabs the closest chair, and pulls it up to Haru's side. She sits down and puts her arm around her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Haru," she says. "I didn't notice."

Haru leans over and rests her head on Makoto's shoulders. "I just want everyone to go away and leave me alone." She smiles a bit. "Not you, obviously."

Makoto smiles back. "Obviously." She lets out a long breath. "Do you think you _want_ to be a part of the Phantom Thieves?"

"I don't know," Haru whispers. "I'm sorry, Makoto, but I don't know. Ann said something to me the other day. No one did anything about Kamoshida and Madarame. No one but the Phantom Thieves. I do think it's easy for people like Goro Akechi to say that things should be left up to the authorities, but if things had been left up to the authorities, wouldn't Yusuke still be starving? And wouldn't Kamoshida still be roaming around?"

Kamoshida's name raises uncomfortable memories, and Makoto tries to focus on the present. "But I do think you have options, Haru. If you got a new phone, you must've retrieved the messages. You could take them to the police."

On this, Haru is silent.

Makoto isn't sure what to say. She wants to say _something_ , but she's afraid that whatever she comes up with will be something other than what Haru needs.

_What would Dad do?_ She thinks.

She takes her arm away and straightens in her chair a bit. "Maybe," she begins. "You need to take some time to figure out what you really want to do."

"I think so too," Haru replies. "But when am I supposed to do that? Akira wants to stop Sugimura soon. They're also talking about these other Mementos targets. I'm not sure when I'm supposed to decide what I want to do."

Makoto takes out her own phone and checks the time. "Well," she says. "We've got some more time before lunch is over. Want to talk it out some more?"

Haru lets out a choking little giggle. "Very much so."

Makoto nods and steels herself to listen. _Haru's not the only one who feels this way_ , she thinks to herself. _I don't know where I stand. I don't know what I'm doing anymore, either. But there'll be time enough for that later, right now, this is what I_ can _do._

#

Takemi stares over the partition at him.

It is not a pleasant stare.

Akira's throat is dry, and so, when he next speaks, it takes him a few attempts to form the syllables. "Do you think you can get that?"

She doesn't reply. Her face starts to shift. Her eyes begin to narrow and her cheeks begin to redden. Her lips tighten into a hard, bloodless line. He watches as her hands ball into little fists, and right as he begins to think that - maybe - this wasn't such a good idea, she whispers, "Chloroform?"

The word is said with such accusation that Akira feels a twang in his chest.

"O-or something like it," he manages. "That works the same way."

Takemi doesn't move. She looks like she hardly breathes. "There's only so many uses for something like that."

Akira feels Morgana shift around in his bag. He wished the cat would just stay still. "I know."

"So it stands to reason that you would be using it for one of those uses."

Akira tries to swallow. "Look, I just-"

"I thought the Phantom Thieves were supposed to help people."

His jaw works soundlessly for a few turns. "That's... that's what we're doing. We-"

"I thought the Phantom Thieves were supposed to help people. Not hurt them. Not kill them."

Akira's eyes widen. "We're not going to _kill_ anyone! We're not-"

"Oh no?" Takemi asks, and shoots out her chair so fast Akira almost doesn't realize it's happening. He takes a step back. "Did you know that something like that could cause serious harm? That it could even kill someone?" Her words are much louder now. On impulse, he glances around the waiting room. "No one's here," she spits. "It's just you and me, Akira."

"Look, if you just listen to-"

"No," she says.

Akira blinks. "No?"

"No. You're not getting that from me."

"You don't understand. We-"

"You're right, I don't understand. I don't understand how you do the things you do. I don't understand how you 'change hearts,' or why your targets always confess to their crimes. I don't understand why you need my medicines to accomplish any of this." She looks down at the desk. "But I don't think you understand either. You come in here, asking me for an anesthetic. You clearly intend on knocking someone out. And you expect me to just give it to you? What do you think this place is, Akira?"

Akira glances around. "This is a clinic," he says. "Obviously."

She laughs. It is not a pleasant sound. "'Obviously!' To you, there's clearly nothing obvious about it. You want me to provide you something that you will knowingly use to do harm to another person, Akira. And you think that's okay?"

"I-" Akira starts, then feels his color begin to rise. "You use me as a subject in your medical tests! How's that okay?"

"Because you agreed to it, and I would never knowingly give you something that I thought could harm you. But you clearly intend to use this chloroform to hurt someone."

"We just need them unconscious," Akira spits out. "We're not going to do anything to them. They just need to be out of it for a little while!"

"And you'll do that how? Put the rag over his face? What happens if you hold it a little too firm, Akira? You'll suffocate them. What happens if you use too much? It could cause permanent damage to the person you're going after."

"You don't even know what this guy is doing!" Akira shouts. "You don't know what he tried to do to my friend, and-"

"And that's your answer? He's a bad person, so it's okay to hurt him? He's a bad person, so it's fine to knock him unconscious?"

"That's not what I mean," he insists.

Takemi only shakes her head. "That may not be what you mean, but it's what you're saying." She holds up her hands. "I'm not getting involved in this."

"But-"

"No," she declares, emphasizing each syllable. "We're done."

Akira stares at her, heart hammering in his chest, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He opens his mouth, then sucks in his lips, turns, and walks out the door.

"Whoa," Morgana says, once they're clear of the clinic. "That was scary."

"Shit," is all Akira can think to say. "Now what?"

"Uh, Akira?"

"What?"

Morgana pops out of the bag and balances his paws on Akira's shoulder. "What, exactly, were you going to use that stuff for, anyway?"

Akira sighs, and glances around to make sure no one is nearby. Then, he gives Morgana a rough outline of his plan.

The cat's eyes look ready to fall from his head. "A-are you kidding? That's dangerous! Like, really, really dangerous!"

"I know," Akira replies.

"But, that if none of that works, it could get you in a lot of trouble and-"

"I know," Akira insists, voice rising. "But what the hell else are we going to do?" He turns his head to try and watch the cat. "Do you have a plan?"

Morgana is silent for a time. Then, "No."

"Right. So there we go." He pulls out his phone and checks the time. "Dammit. It's almost time for Toranosuke's speech."

"Look, I don't like this plan," Morgana says. "But I want to help Haru. So, if we really need something like chloroform, then..."

"What?" Akira asks, impatience dripping from his voice.

"Well, what about Iwai?"

Akira stops walking. "Iwai?"

"Yeah. If what Ohya said was true, then Iwai used to be a pretty shady guy."

_He still is_ , Akira thinks. "And you think he could get us something like that?"

"I mean, if you think about it, he may be able to help us out more than that. But yeah, if he really had yakuza connections, he could probably get that stuff for us. He did get us those gadgets, after all."

Akira sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at the concrete. "That's true." _The last time I was with him, he was acting strange. He said he had something to talk to me about, but never made it clear what it was._

He takes a deep breath. "If Takemi won't help us, then we'll have to hope Iwai will." He nods and starts to head down the street.

"Akira," Morgana says. "Are you sure this plan is a good idea?"

"It's not a good idea," Akira informs him. "But it's all I can come up with. Believe me, I don't want to do things this way. I know that everything could go wrong." He suppresses a shudder as he thinks of the potential consequences. "But if we're going to help Haru, we need to change Sugimura's heart as soon as possible. And this is the best way I can think to do it, and keep those other factors to a minimum."

"But if we're too slow-"

"If we're too slow then we fail." He shrugs. He doesn't say that Haru could then go to the police with her evidence. Akira is certain of few things, but he's absolutely positive that if Haru were to go to Officer Kagawa with the evidence on her phone, nothing would come of it.

_If that's true, why'd I encourage her to get a new one?_

He knows she needed a new one anyway, especially if she was going to be going into and out of the Metaverse.

_Doesn't matter_ , he tells himself. _What matters is that we get what we need, and make this plan work_.

He continues down the street.

#

Toranosuke yawns and rolls his shoulders. "I have a recommendation for you, Kurusu-kun," he says.

Akira looks up from the menu. "What is it?"

"Don't get old." Despite the words, the man gifts him a smile.

The two had retired to a beef bowl restaurant after his latest speech. There'd been no hecklers this time, which Akira was grateful for, and a few in the crowd had seemed entranced in the man's words.

Akira had found himself swept away once again, especially when he began to speak about education reform and the responsibilities of teachers and parents. The topic had, once again, been the burden being placed on the youth and Akira had been happy to see a few young people nodding along as the speech went.

Then, he remembered what he was actually doing there, and became crestfallen.

He knows he shouldn't trust Toranosuke, if only because of the story Ohya had shared about him, but for all of that, he couldn't help but feel that the man was genuine.

"All that stuff," he says. "The things you talk about. Do you really believe in it all?"

He figures he knows what the man will say, but decides to pay attention to how he says it. Toranosuke stares down at his beef bowl for a few moments, then grins. "Of course." He chuckles. "Then again, I'm sure you knew I'd say that. A politician needs to always be in support of his stances, even if he's not quite sure of them himself. But yes, I am a true believer in what I talk about. Our country is in a fair amount of trouble, and I sincerely believe it will be up to the youth to save us." He pats his chest. "Old timers like me? We need to do what we can to ensure they'll have the tools they need to succeed, and then move out of the way."

Akira frowns. "I'm not really knowledgeable about politics, but I've never heard a politician advocate for 'moving out of the way,' when the time comes."

Tora nods. "That's because most politicians are primarily interested in their careers. They're interested in advancing the interests of their party, and their own interests as well. To me, this is how we ended up in the stagnant at the moment. No one looks to the bigger picture. No one looks to the future generations. They only want to fix the economy now. They want to fix things for the loudest complainers now. They want to make sure they win now. But in ten years, when the power dynamics shift - as they always do - those problems will arise once more. And then, they'll shrug their shoulders and blame those in current power, and the cycle will begin again. We've forgotten a basic fundamental of life."

"And that is?" Akira asks. The din of the restaurant has faded away in a dull hum in the back of his mind.

"That long term solutions often demand short-term sacrifices." Tora gestures towards Akira. "Think about it. You can't do well on a test unless you put in the time and energy to study for it. To maintain your health, you need to sacrifice things that may taste good." He laughs again, and leans over the beef bowl. "Which is something I have trouble doing myself. But the point remains. It's the same principle with investing. You put money away into the market in the hope that it'll lead to greater wealth down the line. These day to day occurrences are things we are all aware of. Yet, on a national level, we seem unable to accept or even acknowledge this. We want improvements that will benefit us now, we want _right now_ to be the best it's ever been, but the by doing so, we've dug massive pitfalls further down the line. Instead of investing in our future, we tread down the same paths we've been following our whole lives, and when things go south, we look for a scapegoat. And, sadly, that scapegoat is traditionally the younger generation, who we cite as too lazy, too un-patriotic, too weak-willed or what have you. And the cycle continues ever onward."

Akira turns from him and stares off ahead. "That's pretty bleak."

"I'm afraid it is," Tora replies. He shakes his head. "But enough of that. You've heard this speech a few times now. Tell me more about yourself, Kurusu-kun. I take it you attend school in the city?"

Akira nods. "Yeah, I got to Shujin Academy and-"

"Shujin!" Toranosuke replies, and his eyes nearly bug from his head.

"Uh, yeah."

"Isn't that the school where that vile Kamoshida taught?"

Akira blinks. "Yes. It is. I mean, he did. He's gone now."

Tora shakes his head. "And good riddance. Just disgusting, the things he did."

"I agree," Akira replies. "That was pretty bad."

"But how do you like school? Are you doing well?"

Akira thinks of his previous test. "Yeah, I guess I'm doing pretty well. I've had some help. Tutors and stuff." He thinks of Kawakami. "And my teacher comes over sometimes and helps to teach me. Sort of."

Tora beams. "Ah, perfect. Sounds like a dedicated teacher."

He thinks of his homeroom teacher in her maid get-up. "Dedicated is one way of putting it, I guess."

Tora laughs heartily, and returns to his beef bowl.

Akira's mind wanders. He's not ready to start prodding the man for information on his previous exploits. This was only the second time they'd talked. If he started in on that now, it might set off alarms in Tora's head, and the whole thing could be called off.

_But what else am I supposed to talk about?_

He remembers Ohya's words. _Make it worth your while_.

"Can I ask you something?" Akira asks.

"Certainly," Tora replies, once he finishes slurping up some food.

"I'm trying to be more..." He trails off, and waves his hand through the air as he tries to find the right word. "Charismatic, maybe? Yeah, charismatic. I'm in a position at school where, uh, I need people to listen to me." He nods towards Tora. "You manage to draw all these people in during your speeches. I was wondering if you had any tips on how I could do that?"

Tora's brow creases and his lips purse. "Interesting. Well, at first glance, I think I see the core of your problem."

Akira frowns. "You do?"

Tora nods. "Indeed. You just said, 'I need people to listen to me.' Implying that you want people to listen to you and hear you." He shrugs. "Now, admittedly, speech giving is a bit different than working with a group, but the core tenants remain the same, I believe. If you want people to listen to you, then you need to show them how it's in their best interest to listen to you."

Akira blinks. "What do you mean?"

"People are generally self-interested," Tora replies. "They want to do things that are good for them. If you want people to listen to you, and if you want people to do what you want, then you have to paint the picture that by doing so, they'll get what you want. A type of win-win scenario. If you listen to me, and do what I want, it'll provide you with a shortcut to get what you want." Akira begins to mull this over, as Tora continues to speak. "Instead of trying to force your will on others, you should show them a path where by following you and listening to you, their will becomes acted upon."

"Okay," Akira says, then frowns. "You know, that kind of seems a little shady."

Tora chuckles. "And there are people who have used that for shady methods. But charisma and these types of techniques are merely tools. Tools are neither good nor bad. They simply are. Knowing this technique, and using it, is only bad if you use it for a bad reason. If you knowingly lie. So, you should use it, but make sure you're truthful. You should strive to people that listening to you will provide benefit for them, and be truthful about it."

_To get others to listen to me_ , Akira thinks. _I should structure things in a way that implies they'll get what they want as well._

"I see," Akira says, and takes up another morsel of food. "Thank you."

#

"And then?" Ohya asks. She sits slumped forward, fingers wrapped around the whiskey glass. Her lids blink up at him, but slowly. The lighting in Crossroads is always dim, and he can't tell how red her cheeks are, but he's willing to bet they're very.

"And then, nothing," Akira replies. "We finished our food, and I left. I came right here."

Ohya takes a sip of the dark liquid in her glass. "So, and stop me if I'm wrong, instead of getting more information about his political dealings, you asked him for life advice instead?"

He frowns, turns, and pours her a water, then sets it down next to her. "On the house," he says, low enough so she won't hear it. "You told me to win his trust." He speaks louder now. "He's not going to trust me after, like, two meetings."

Ohya shakes his head. "You're not supposed to ask him directly, cuz. You're supposed to talk around the topic. Sometimes it's more important to pay attention to what people _don't_ say about a topic than what they do."

Akira hears his name called from further down the bar. He turns and sees two men hanging off one another waving him down.

"I'll keep that in mind," he tells her. "For next time. I'll be back." He walks away from her, leaving her hunched over the bar.

"Hey," he says, when he reaches the two regular customers.

"Akira-kun," one of the men says. "We've heard nothing on the Makoto front for some time now." He waves his hands through the air. "Spill."

Akira sighs. "Things are-" He's cut off by a very vocal throat clearing. He turns to Lala, who glares down at him, brows arched, daring him to use the word _complicated_.

"Weird?" He tries, instead.

Lala sighs and shakes her head, shifting over the conversation. "And how are they weird?"

"Now, hold on," says the second man. "This could be weird in the fun way. Akira, is it weird in a fun way?" He smiles, suggestively.

Akira frowns. _I wish_. "No, it's not."

"She hasn't hit you recently?" The first man inquires. "Too bad."

"Thanks," Akira says, and all three laugh. He smiles anyway. He knows it's all joking. He's used to the good natured ribbing by now. What's more, he's beginning to wonder if the Makoto ship hasn't sailed already. _They may not want to hear it, but it is complicated_. Given the stress of solving Sugimura's Palace situation, and of helping Haru and the other Mementos targets, Akira's given little time to thinking about Makoto, aside from a handful of daydreams he's managed to have in-between classes and activities.

_It'd be great if things went back to the way they were_ , he thinks. _But can they, at this point?_

He spends the next twenty minutes of his shift entertaining the patrons with more stories. Most of it, he just makes up. He suspects they probably know. But Crossroads has become a place people congregate to give him a hard time, and if it helps Lala and gives him some more tips, he's happy to contribute in his own way.

The night drags on, and Akira prepares to wrap things up and head home. Absently, he runs his gaze along the bar until it comes to a rest on Ohya. The woman is slowly sliding out of her chair and before Akira can even process what will happen and shout a warning, she shifts out completely and collapses to the floor with a _thunk_.

The bar silences almost immediately. Then, one of the patrons shoots out of his seat and makes his way over to her.

"Ohya!" Lala calls, and rushes to her side.

Akira joins them out from behind the bar, crouching at her side.

The woman blinks up at them, scowling. "Gimme a break, I'm fine, I'm fine."

The man reaches out and gently prods her head. Ohya tries to swat his hand away, but can't.

"I don't feel any cuts or bumps," the man says. "I don't think she has a concussion." He looks at Akira and Lala. "Let's help her up."

Akira can barely do a thing, as Lala practically scoops up Ohya in her arms and hefts her up.

"So stronggggggg," Ohya giggles.

Lala doesn't look amused. "I've never seen her this bad before," she mutters, as she steps over to a booth and sits Ohya down in it.

"It's not bad," Ohya blurts. "Not bad."

One patron sums it up perfectly well. "She's trashed." His boyfriend swats him on the arm.

Lala glances back at the patrons, and frowns. "Akira, can I trust you to help her home?"

Akira blinks. "Me?"

Lala snaps her eyes back to him. "Yes, you. Is that a problem? I can trust you with that, can't I?"

Akira fights the urge to stand at attention. "Of course. Definitely. But, uh, I don't-"

"Give me your phone," Lala says, and holds out her hand. "I'll plug in her address. It's not far from here. I don't trust a taxi or rideshare." Akira nods and hands it over. Lala punches a few things in and hands it back. "And don't stop. Even if she complains. You know this by now, but Shinjuku has some bad people in it. Call me the moment you get her back to her place."

"You got it," Akira says.

He moves to help Ohya stand. She groans. "I don't need a babysitter Lala-chan!"

"Akira isn't a babysitter," Lala replies. "He's your friend. And he's going to help you get home. Because you're wasted, dear."

"I disagree," Ohya blurts, but she lets Akira help her up. She takes her hand and rests it on her shoulder, and starts to lead her towards the exit.

They step out into the humid, neon Shinjuku night. Akira glances at his phone and starts to head in the direction. There are still plenty of crowds at this time, and they stare at the two of them as they make their way down the street, but as this _is_ Shinjuku, most don't pay them more than a glance.

"You're my friend, huh?" Ohya asks.

Akira frowns. _Whatever I say, she probably won't remember any of it tomorrow_. "Yeah, I am. You should know that by now."

She laughs then, but it's more of a cackle, angry and sad at the same time. "My only friends in the whole world are a bartender and a teenager," she hisses. "What a fucking joke."

Akira keeps his mouth shut. _That's the drink. She's got other friends._ He thinks so, anyway. Granted, he's never heard her mention any of them, but they don't really meet for social reasons.

"Hey, cuz," Ohya whispers. "What'd you think that says about me, that you two are my only friends?"

_What deity did I piss off for my life to turn out this way?_

"I think," Akira says, trying to keep his tone bright. "That is says you've got some great friends."

"Uh-huh," she replies, and then nothing.

A few minutes later, she starts to cry.

Akira does his best to ignore this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.


	82. Final Notice

6-16

 

Crow watches the scenery go by out the window.

_Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

He glances down at his gloved fingers, runs them over the armrest. _And here we are again_.

_Chomp. Chomp. Chomp._

Crow looks over at Kaneshiro and frowns at the unhinged jaw filled with razor teeth, pulverizing the bones he tosses into his maw until they become a fine powder coating his raw, red gums.

This time, Crow chose an aisle seat. He won't put himself between this Shadow and glass again.

_Chomp. Chomp. Chomp_.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm-" He starts.

"Rin Sugimura," Shadow Kaneshiro interrupts. "He's gotta go."

Crow searches his memory. He conjured up an image of an older man with gray in his temples. A politician. Associated, but unaffiliated with Shido. "I know a politician with the last name Sugimura, but-"

"Rin is his son," Kaneshiro cuts in. Crow bristles at being interrupted, twice. "Rin Sugimura. Make it happen."

"Why?" Crow asks. He had been expecting another request for a meeting from Kaneshiro. It's been a while since he has requested a mental shutdown.

"He's become a problem. The kid's made use of my services in the past. Up until recently, he was what you'd expect. Now? Kid's gone fucking bats." Shadow Kaneshiro frowns, which is a positively odd look, given the massive jaw. "He showed up at my place the other day. Said he had his fiancé in his car. He wanted me to drug her up so she'd be nice and doting or whatever. I had to smack him around some, and I sent him on his way."

Crow blinks. "Wait. What about his fiancé?" Any woman promised to the son of a prominent politician was bound to be from a powerful family herself.

"What about her?"

"Where is she?"

Kaneshiro shrugs. "No clue. She wasn't in the car. He insisted she was, and I had my men search everywhere. Nothing. I've kept tabs on the kid since. He's got no idea where she is, apparently. But he was still stupid enough to do what he did. It's only a matter of time before he does something even dumber."

Crow's eyes narrow. "There was no evidence of her? Anywhere?"

"Who gives a shit?" Kaneshiro asks. "She was never in the car, as far as I'm concerned. The kid went off the deep end."

Crow frowns. Kaneshiro and his thugs wouldn't know how to conduct a forensic investigation. Even if they did, why undertake one?

_Why does this bother me?_ Crow wonders. The explanation was reasonable enough. Rin Sugimura had lost his grasp on reality.

"This girl," Crow says. "What's her name? Do you know?"

"Haru Okumura," Kaneshiro replies. "She's the daughter of the CEO of Okumura Foods."

Crow leans back in his seat. _Haru Okumura. Daughter of Kunikazu Okumura. Fiancé of Rin Sugimura. Friend of Makoto Niijima._

"Interesting," Crow mutters.

"What's that interesting?" Kaneshiro asks.

Crow turns his gaze back towards the big man. The Shadow observes him with a look he does not like. "It's nothing," Crow says. "Nothing important." _Maybe_. "So, you think Rin Sugimura has become a liability to your businesses?"

Kaneshiro's eyes narrow. It's a few moments before he replies. "That's right."

Crow rolls his shoulders. "You know, I'm not your personal fixer. Why can't you-"

Kaneshiro grumbles out a laugh. "Let's not, yeah?" He shakes his head. "Is this about last time? Did I hurt your feelings when I cracked your head against the window?"

Crow scowls, and opens his mouth to reply, but Kaneshiro continues to speak.

"You exist to serve this thing of ours. That's your role. I've got a role too. My role is different than your role." He raises a hand, and gestures towards Crow, then towards himself. Back and forth. Back and forth. "Let's not confuse this relationship. I tell you to do something. You do it. That's all. Take care of Rin Sugimura. Do it so there's no connection to me and mine. Do it, and shut the fuck up about it."

Crow stares at him, lips pressed together in a thin line. His fingers twitch, but he keeps his hands steady. He consoles himself with a single thought. _At the end of this, I'll be standing at the dawn of a new world. And you, Juunya Kaneshiro, will be nothing more than pulverized bones in the dirt._

He smiles. "Understood."

#

Sae stares down at the paperwork. The words have bled together once again. She leans back in her chair, shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, then pushes herself forward and opens them once more.

The words are distinct now, and her brain kicks in and processes them accordingly. _Much better._

"Knock, knock," comes a voice at the door.

For one strange second, Sae is certain she'll look up and find Goro Akechi standing in her office door. This, despite the voice belonging to someone clearly older. _A shame too,_ she thinks. _We haven't talked in a while._

She looks up at the source of the voice and has just enough time to stop her jaw from falling open. Hideotoshi Kagawa stands, with half his bulk in her office and half back out in the hall. He grins over at her and Sae feels many things crashing together within her.

"Ka-Kagawa-san," she says, and stands.

Absently, she adjusts her suit jacket, then curses herself for doing so.

"Oh, come on," he replies, waving the words away. "No need for that. We're only friends, aren't we, Sae?"

She forces a smile onto her face, and nods her head in something close to a bow. "How may I help you?" She asks, then shakes her head. "Please, um, come in."

"Thank you," he says, and returns the gesture. He steps inside and sticks his thumb back towards the door. "Open or closed?"

Sae waits a beat. "Is there a reason it needs to be closed?"

He shrugs. "No. I just figured you'd have a preference."

"I don't," she replies.

"Okay, then." He leaves the door open and moves over to her desk, glancing around the room as he does so. "You sure have a lot of work. I guess the SIU is keeping you busy."

"A Public Prosecutor often has a full plate," she replies, and gestures to the chair before her desk.

"Thanks," he says, and slides into it. "And no doubt, I'm sure." He takes another look around as Sae sits, and whistles beneath his breath. "Don't you have an assistant or something?"

She narrows her eyes. "I don't need an assistant."

He lifts his hands, palms towards her. "I didn't mean that you did. It's just that anyone with this kind of workload could probably use an extra pair of hands."

"Are you offering?"

He smirks. "Sorry, no can do. I've got my own backlog to work through."

Sae nods, but her reply is only to ask, "What brings you here, Officer Kagawa?"

Kagawa frowns at the official title, but doesn't address it. "Well, I wanted to ask about your sister, actually."

Sae frowns. "Makoto? What about her?"

"The little Miss called me the other day. She asked me to have a little sit down with her. She told me that her friend was in some kind of trouble." He cocks his head to the side. "Has she mentioned any of this to you? The name Rin Suigmura ring any bells?"

Sae expels a long breath of air, and once it's gone, whispers, " _Goddammit_."

Kagawa blinks. "I don't-"

"She said this to you?" Sae asks. "She specifically said the name, 'Rin Sugimura,' to you?"

Kagawa nods. "She did. Apparently the guy is engaged to her best friend, Haru Okumura. The bastard has supposedly left some rather threatening and scary messages on Okumura's voicemail. Makoto wanted her to bring them to me."

_I told her not to get involved. I_ explained _this to her!_ "Did she?"

"Well, that's the thing. The girl was supposed to come to our meeting, but she never showed. This sent Mini-Makoto into something of a tailspin. She called her other friends to help her look for her, and one of them showed up and-"

"One of them?" Sae snaps. Kagawa shifts in his seat. "What was their name?"

Kagawa blinks. "Akira Kurusu. Nice eno-"

"F-" Sae blurts out the beginnings of a curse, then clamps her mouth shut. She lifts up her hand and covers her mouth with her fist, turns in her chair until she's looking at the wall. _Akira Kurusu. Rin Sugimura. She didn't listen. She never FUCKING listens._

"Sae, are you-"

"Makoto's not supposed to have any association with these people. Rin Sugimura. Akira Kurusu. I've told her this."

"I don't know about Kurusu," Kagawa continues. "But I don't think she does have any association with Sugimura. She's only trying to help her friend."

"She should worry about helping _herself_ ," Sae spits. "Not these random people she didn't even know two months ago."

Kagawa clears his throat. "So, I take it she hasn't talked about any of this with you?"

"She has not."

"Well, see, the thing is, Okumura never showed up. But when I spoke to Makoto next, she told me the girl was fine and had just gotten cold feet. She told me she didn't want to come forward anymore. I don't think that's the whole story. I think something's going on, but I don't know what. I'd rather not make assumptions, but I think it's got something to do with that Kurusu kid. Apparently, Haru Okumura and him share a shift at Rafflesia at Shibuya Underground. But she wasn't there when I checked." He glances his watch. "They've got another shift tonight, but I'm willing to bet she won't show. The whole thing, frankly, stinks."

"What is it," Sae asks through gritted teeth. "That you're _here_ for, Officer Kagawa?"

Kagawa purses his lips. "I'm just following a hunch. Has Mini-Makoto been acting strange these last few weeks? Has she done anything out of the ordinary?"

Sae throws back her head and laughs. She laughs and she laughs and she laughs. It does not sound good, even to her own ears. Judging by Kagawa's face, it doesn't sound good to him either.

She stops it soon enough and says, "I haven't been home in some time. But my sister is fine, from what I understand. She's associated with some colorful individuals, but this a phase that will quickly pass. Before long she'll be back on the correct path."

"Okay," Kagawa replies, drawing the word out. "Still, though, maybe you should talk to her. Maybe we should talk to her together."

Sae rolls her eyes. "And what would that achieve?"

Kagawa is silent for a short time. Then he asks, "Big Sis Sae, are you okay?"

Sae puts as much weight behind her glare as she can. " _Don't_ call me that."

He blinks. "Seriously. Are you okay?"

"That's not your concern."

He makes a face. "Well, it sort of is. Akihiko asked me to keep an eye on you and-"

"And this is the first I'm seeing you since," Sae snaps. "So don't pretend that you care, Officer Kagawa. You're not a very good liar."

He frowns. "I'm not lying, Sae. And I do care. Akihiko was my fri-"

"And a great lot of good that friendship did him," Sae replies, voice just shy of shouting. "Splattered across the grill of a truck." She nearly breaks on the last word, but manages to hold it together.

Kagawa looks like he's been slapped. _Good_. "I think it's time you left, Officer Kagawa."

"Yeah," he says, pushing himself to his feet. "You're probably right." He turns and shuffles towards the door. "I'm sorry if I bothered you, Sae. And I... well, I'm sorry."

He walks out and shuts the door behind him.

Sae balls her hands into fists, and digs her fingernails into her palms until they stop shaking. She won't let this affect her. It's been long enough. She's put it all behind her. It's all in the past. There was no reason to look back at it. There was only time for the future.

_And Makoto is ruining her own_.

Sae would see that. She thought she had been strict enough last time. Evidently, that wasn't the case.

#

"Um, Akira-kun?" Hanasaki asks.

Akira finishes rearranging the orchids, and turns to her. "Yes?"

"What is, um, your cat _doing_ exactly?"

Akira follows her gaze to Morgana, who sits on a stool, staring at a few pages of printer paper. The cat glances up and finds the two of them watching him, then turns back to the pages. "You're on your own," he mutters.

"Oh, that," Akira says, and chuckles. "That's just something he's been doing lately. It calms him down."

Hanasaki peers down at the pages. "Blueprints of cars calm your cat down?"

"Well," Akira points out. "It's isn't blueprints of cars, per se. I think it has something to do with the abstract shapes. He likes to look at them. Study them, or something. It keeps him pretty relaxed."

"I see," Hanasaki says.

"Smooth," Morgana whispers.

_Does it matter?_ Akira wonders. Hanasaki may find it odd for Morgana to be reading blueprints, but it wasn't as if the cat was taking notes. Not physical notes, anyway.

Haru had identified the make and model of Sugimura's car, and a simple online search had yielded said blueprints. Akira had tasked the other Thieves with printing out a few extra dozen blueprints of other cars, just to cover their tracks. Haru had complained of, 'killing trees,' but hadn't made a thing of it.

It was Morgana's job to break the car, once they got it where they wanted it.

Morgana had assured the rest of the Phantom Thieves that he could do it, provided he could have a day or two to study the plans. Akira figures he'll just slash everything under

the car with his claws, rather than do anything particularly surgical like he pretends. It didn't matter. What mattered was that the car couldn't move for a period of time. Hopefully, long enough for them to get into the Palace and get back out again.

_Of course, Mona's job is the easy part._

Akira had a meeting after his shift at Rafflesia, one he was dreading.

"How's it going with that?" Akira asks, once Hanasaki returns to the front.

"It's going," Morgana replies. He reaches out a paw and pokes a small hole through a sheet of paper. "Pretty sure I can cut this and the car will be out of commission."

"Pretty sure?"

Morgana glares up at him. "Yes. Pretty sure. I've never sabotaged a car before. To be safe, I'll break just about everything I see."

_Just like I thought,_ Akira thinks, with a smile.

They wrap up the shift, and Akira shoves the blueprints back into his bag. He thanks Hanasaki, accepts his pay, and heads out into the Shibuya night.

"You ready for this?" Morgana asks.

"Not really," Akira replies. "I know I've got to be, but I've never done something this intense before."

"You'll be okay. Just remember what Toranosuke said to you."

"I'm willing to bet," Akira says, as they walk. "That there are a lot more steps he didn't tell me about."

"Just, have confidence. Or something."

"Great," he says. "Thanks."

They turn down the alley and head towards Untouchable. The place is generally closed at this time, but Akira had sent Iwai a message, letting him know he would be dropping by.

He pushes the door open, which gives a faint jangle. Iwai sits behind the counter, hands folded together. He doesn't look like he usually does, laid back, quiet, and confident.

He looks, almost, scared.

"Kid," he says, looking up.

Akira nods. "Anyone else here?" He asks.

Iwai shakes his head.

Akira spreads his arms.

Iwai shakes his head once more. "Forget that shit. We need-"

"Hold it," Akira says and cuts in. _Better do this now, before I lose my nerve_. "Let me talk first." Iwai arches a brow, but keeps his mouth closed. "You need my help with something. That much is clear. You've been saying it for a while now. Well, I'll help you. But I want something in return and I need it fast." He swallows, pushing ahead. "I need chloroform."

Iwai blinks. "You joking?"

"No. I need it. And that's not all." He speaks quickly, laying out the basis of his plan.

Iwai's eyes get wider as he speaks. When he finishes, Iwai is silent. Then, he says, "And if I do these things for you, you promise to help me with what I need?"

Akira nods. "Yes, I do."

Iwai stands. "Deal." He turns and head back towards the office.

"Where are you going?" Akira asks.

Iwai turns his head back towards him. "I've got a call to make."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Veterans Day!
> 
> Hey, so, I know things have been somewhat slow lately, but I want you all to know I'm hoping to get back to a regular posting schedule soon. No guarantees, but I just thought a head's up would be good.
> 
> That aside, anyone got any anime recommendations for this season, or from the last one? I watched Steins;Gate 0 (obviously) but I never finished the P5 anime.


End file.
